


Reflections

by wilddragonflying



Series: Roleplays [7]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bullying, Future Fic, M/M, Mage, Roleplay, SCRYING, Sequel, Shifter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 09:48:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/911795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Family(Doesn't End with Blood), an early fic in this series.</p><p>Six years after adopting Dakota, a shifter, Sam and Dean receive news of another potential hunt from Garth. Like <em>that</em> can ever go wrong. The three Winchesters(plus a new addition) travel to Virginia, to Riverheads High School, to deal with a vengeful spirit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reflections

**Author's Note:**

> So, we decided we liked this verse so much that we were going to write a sequel. And we may have another sequel coming later, after we get a couple of other fics out of the way.
> 
> As always, if you enjoy this, don't just leave kudos here; go give love to impalagirl on tumblr as well. :)

Trees flashed by the Impala as Dean drove with his phone pressed to his ear, his son's voice chattering away at him about all the neat things he'd found in the library while Sam and Dean had been gone.

"That's great," Dean said, grinning over at Sam as Dakota detailed exactly what he was going to do with some of that knowledge—for instance, he'd found what he _thought_ was a recipe for a lotion that would help protect his skin from silver. _That_ would come in handy, considering Dakota was a shifter.

It had been six years since Sam and Dean had pulled their heads out of their asses and admitted their feelings for each other. That had been while working a case over a parent shifter who was using her kid, Dakota, for bait; put the kid up for adoption, then come and kill the new adoptive parents. When the case was over, neither the Winchesters nor Dakota wanted to separate, so Sam and Dean officially adopted Dakota.

Sam smiled as he listened to Dakota's excited chattering. He couldn't hear exactly what was being said, but he was following the conversation from Dean's side and he got the general idea. Their son had turned into quite the bookworm over the years, but Sam had only recently allowed him access to the library in the Men of Letters' bunker. The kid was loving it, devouring volume after volume with an enthusiasm that Sam himself hadn't displayed for years. Still, when Dean hung up without passing the phone over, Sam understood. He remembered all too well that hunger for knowledge, and how difficult it had been to tear him away from his studies for longer than a few minutes. 

"How is he?" Sam asked, because he was a dad and he was allowed to worry. They didn't take many hunts that required them to stay away for more than a few days anymore, mainly because they couldn't take Dakota with them and guarantee his safety, but this time Dakota had all but pushed them out the door. He was old enough to stay home by himself; he knew what to do if anything went wrong; he would call Garth if absolutely necessary and would they just go already? _Jeez_. Sam was kind of surprised that he hadn't asked to go with them—between the three of them, it had been decided that Dakota would focus on his education before deciding whether or not he would become a hunter full time, which meant that he didn't join them on major cases—but he was a good kid. He knew what he wanted, and what he'd wanted was some alone time with the library.

"Still drooling over that library," Dean laughed, reaching over to lay a hand on Sam's shoulder, his thumb stroking over the top of it lightly. "Says he might've found something to help increase his resistance to silver, some sort of lotion or something like that." Ever since they'd started out together, Dakota had insisted on building up his resistance to silver. It was slow, painful going, but now Dakota could successfully pass off the pain of the contact as the simple pain of a blade. He still wore mostly long-sleeved shirts, though; the silver still burned his skin, and wouldn't go away until he shifted.

***

After Dakota had hung up with his dad—and he finally had a _family_ , that was still something he marveled at, even after six years—he'd decided to return to his research. Only, there was something... _off_ in the air. Dakota lifted his head, tilting it to the side as he frowned, concentrating. Whatever was causing the disturbance, it was coming from the main foyer.

The young shifter quickly grabbed his knife, holding it in the way that Dean had drilled into him until it was second nature, just like shifting. He carefully made his way down the hall, pausing after every step. Dakota could hear some rustling in the foyer, and what sounded like— _pawsteps_?

As he rounded the corner, he saw the source of the rustling, and he nearly dropped the knife in shock.

Pops was _not_ gonna like this.

***

Sam and Dean were laughing when they got out of the car, a bag of take out hanging from Dean's arm. They were flushed and happy, pleased with themselves for completing the job and relieved to be home, and Sam called out to Dakota once they were inside. Dakota responded, telling them that he was in the library—as if they expected any different—so they rolled their eyes and followed the sound of his voice, hoping that the smell of burgers would tempt him away from his precious books. 

Sam was the first into the room; Dean almost crashed into the back of him when he stopped dead in the doorway, his gaze fixed on the creature at his son's feet. "What is _that_?"

Dakota shrugged helplessly. "I don't know! I hung up the phone, heard something in the foyer, and when I went to investigate, _she_ was sitting in there! Then she followed me into the library, and I haven't been able to figure out how she got in or anything!"

Dean continued to stare at the— _huge_ —black cat sitting next to Dakota's legs. She had long fur and her eyes were two different colors; one gold, one green. There was not a speck of white on her, and she seemed perfectly content to sit next to Dakota and stare at Sam and Dean curiously.

Dean cleared his throat. "Unless I'm mistaken," he said carefully, "that's a goddamned Maine Coon sitting there. Y'know, a _cat_. To which I am allergic."

"Alright, just don't come into the room," Sam advised his brother, gritting his teeth. She was a beautiful cat, he had to admit, but that didn't count for much if Dean was going to be blind every time she came near him. "Dakota, there's no way a cat that big got in by itself, and you know your dad's allergic. She can't stay." Sam sighed, and then frowned at the look he was receiving from the cat. Since when could felines pull off puppydog eyes?

"I didn't let her in!" Dakota insisted, throwing his hands in the air. "I know Pops is allergic; why would I _want_ to bring in a cat?"

Dean studied Dakota intently; the kid showed no signs of lying. He frowned in confusion; if Dakota was telling the truth, then how did the cat get in?

Dean was so lost in thought that he didn't realize the cat had moved until it was twining around his legs, purring loudly and rubbing her cheeks against his jeans. Dean let out an entirely masculine yelp and jumped back, waiting for the familiar symptoms to come—but they never did.

Sam hissed at the cat and stuck his leg out when she made to follow Dean, guiding her back toward Dakota with his foot. "Are you alright?" he asked, looking Dean over when he didn't immediately start wheezing.

Dean stared at Sam in shock. "Surprisingly, yeah," he said slowly, staring at the cat. She had a... Could cats even pull off a smug look?

"Don't think this means we can keep her," Sam said quickly, looking over his shoulder at Dakota. He could see the look the cat was giving Dean, and it was creeping him out a little. She seemed strangely intelligent. "I want to know where she came from."

At that, the cat tilted her head before glancing around, apparently checking out the books on the shelves. But that was impossible, right?

Apparently not. She lightly gripped Dakota's pant leg in her teeth, tugging him over to a shelf before jumping up to the shelf and reaching out to touch a paw to a certain book. Bewildered, Dakota pulled it out and carried it to the table, followed by the cat. "Witches' Creatures," he read aloud before opening the book and leafing through the pages quickly. The cat stopped him on a page with a picture of another cat—this one a grey tabby. "The Witch's Companion is generally a cat. This cat possesses intelligence to rival a human's, an uncanny ability to heal itself, and is unnoticeable when it wishes to be. The Companion can also be given by a Witch to her benefactor, to help them for as long as the benefactor walks the earth."

"Witches, of course," Dean growled, smacking himself in the forehead. "Sam, we just took out a witch. What if she was threatening another one?"

"So she gave us her _familiar_?" Sam demanded, incredulous. "No. No way; there has to be strings attached to this. Witches don't help us."

The cat let out a disgusted noise and pawed at the book until she managed to flip the page over. On the other page was an entry for "The Familiar," and Dakota quickly scanned it. "She's not a familiar," he said. "She's a Companion. Familiars have a human form and can switch between the two; Companions only take the shape of a cat. Plus familiars are bonded for life to their witch; they cannot leave them." Dakota glanced over at the cat, who was nodding, giving him a... God, this was weird, but she almost looked fond of him, and more than a little bit proud.

"So what, we unknowingly help another witch—because as far as we knew, there was only _one_ in that town—and she decides to gift us with a Companion? Like Sam said, witches don't just _help_ the Winchesters." Dean shot the cat another suspicious look, and he swore that she looked like she wanted to stick her tongue out at him. Which was utterly ridiculous.

"Do you think there's an ulterior motive?" Sam asked doubtfully. Near-human intelligence or not, a cat couldn't really do them much harm, especially if Dean wasn't even allergic to it.

Dakota absently reached out to scratch the cat just behind and under one ear, causing her to purr delightedly and lean into the touch. "I don't think so. According to this, only White Witches—witches who are extremely powerful and have never used their powers for anything bad—can summon a Companion."

Dean watched the way Dakota stroked the cat and glanced over at Sam. They shared a silent exchange, and then Dean sighed. "Fine," he acquiesced, rolling his eyes. "Not like we've got much choice, anyway; she's already made herself at home."

Sam shrugged. He couldn't really argue. "I guess you'd better name her, since she seems to like you best," he said, giving Dakota a smile.

Dakota grinned at Sam, turning to face the cat. They both tilted their heads in mirror images of each other, both feline and human eyes studying each other intently. After a moment, Dakota spoke quietly. "Sable." The cat gave a delicate shudder, then leaned forward to rub her cheek against Dakota's, then touch her nose to his. Dakota turned to look at his fathers, a grin spreading across his features. "She likes it."

Dean had to smile at the look on Dakota's face. He seemed indescribably happy; Dean hadn't seen his son this happy since the day the adoption had been made official. "So, now that that's sorted out, who's hungry?"

"I am," Sam piped up, beaming. They followed Dean from the library and Sam almost tripped up as Sable wound herself around his legs. He sighed. "I'm gonna have to give her my burger, aren't I?"

"I'll share," Dakota chimed in. "Then maybe we can go in town, get some supplies?" Dean parceled out the burgers, fries, and drinks before nodding.

"I don't see why not. Guess we'll need food and water dishes, food, and..." He broke off, eyeing the cat warily. "Litter box?" Sable nodded, and Dean shook his head. "Talking to a cat, who actually understands and answers. The hell has my life come to?"

Sam laughed and patted Dean's arm sympathetically. "We've dealt with weirder," he said, winking at Dakota. "We'll head into town first thing. For now, Sable will have to do her business somewhere that's not all over the floor or the furniture."

Sable favored Sam with a withering look—and Dean wasn't going to look too closely at how he knew that look was meant to be withering. He was having a hard enough time sorting through the whole magical-cat-shows-up-and-is-as-intelligent-as-a-human thing. They finished the meal in wary silence, each of them trying to figure out what the proper reaction was.

When they finished, Dakota tried to convince them to go to the pet store now, but Dean raised an eyebrow and glanced at the clock on the wall beside them. "It's almost 10:30 at night, son," he pointed out. "It takes us half an hour to get into town; the store will be closed by then. We'll go in first thing tomorrow morning, like Sam said, all right?"

Dakota heaved an exaggerated sigh, but nodded. "Fine," he sighed. "Can Sable sleep with me?"

Dean grinned. "Don't see why not; there's no room in our bed."

Sam hummed his agreement, smiling mischievously at Dakota. "Just remember that if she pees on your carpet, you're cleaning it up," he said mildly, and then laughed when Sable hissed at him. A scratch behind the ears soon had her purring again, though. This pet thing might not be so bad.

Dakota stuck his tongue out at Sam, but got up to give both Sam and Dean a hug before scratching Sable lightly at the base of her tail. "C'mon, girl; let's head on to my room. I've got some more books in there that I wanna read."

Dean smiled as he watched them disappear down the hallway. He didn't bother cleaning up the empty wrappers, instead climbing into Sam's lap, wrapping his arms around Sam's neck and burying his face in the side of Sam's neck.

Sam sighed contentedly and wrapped his arms around Dean in return, allowing his eyes to close while he absorbed in his brother's warmth. "You okay, babe?" he asked, his lips brushing Dean's ear as he spoke.

Dean nodded, murmuring into Sam's neck. "Just still kinda in awe of the fact that I can _have_ this; you, Dakota, hunting. Feels like it shouldn't be real, sometimes." He kissed Sam's neck, absently moving up to start nibbling on his brother's earlobe. "I'm glad it is."

Sam chuckled softly and let his fingers play with the hairs at the nape of Dean's neck. "It's been six years, Dean," he pointed out mildly. "It's definitely real. Dakota and I aren't going anywhere—and neither is Sable, apparently. How does it feel, leading an apple pie life?" It was a familiar question, one that they'd both asked at different times over the years—evidence of lingering insecurities that went ignored most of the time, but had to be indulged every now and then, just to make sure that nothing had changed. Still, by now they were secure enough that when they asked, the question could be lent a light, teasing tone. They still checked, but they were almost always sure of the answer.

Dean laughed. "This ain't exactly an apple-pie life," he pointed out, leaning down to kiss Sam quickly. "But I love it anyway. Got the best of both worlds, here."

"It's the best we're gonna get," Sam reminded him, and their next kiss was slower, deeper. "It's more than I ever thought I'd get."

"Mm, same here," Dean hummed. "C'mon; let's go to bed. Got somthin' I wanna show you."

Sam smirked and gave Dean a gentle shove, standing when he climbed off his lap. "That's quite possibly the worst line I've ever heard," he laughed, but he allowed Dean to lead him to their room all the same.

Dean just laughed. Once they were in their room, Dean locked the door and motioned for Sam to sit on the bed. At Sam's raised eyebrow, he flushed, squirming nervously. "Just sit, would ya?"

Sam sat, eyeing Dean curiously. This wasn't exactly what he'd expected to happen the moment Dean flicked the lock on their door; his lover wasn't normally embarrassed or nervous when it came to sex. "What is it?" he asked, half amused and half wary. 

"Just... Close your eyes, okay?" Dean waited for Sam to comply, and then he took a deep breath, quickly stepping out of most of his clothes before he could lose his nerve. The lacy black panties, however, he left on. He'd bought them on a whim while they were on the hunt, and he'd managed to finally talk himself into wearing them that morning. They'd been driving him crazy; all that soft fabric moving over his cock every time he so much as twitched. He liked them, felt even better than the last time he'd worn a pair of panties, but he was still a bit nervous about how Sam would react.

Sam smiled when he heard the rustle of clothing, and knew that Dean was undressing. Perhaps they were roleplaying? The smile slipped from his face, however, when Dean didn't speak again—or make any move whatsoever. "Can I look now?" Sam asked, frowning slightly. It took Dean a moment,  but at last he agreed and Sam opened his eyes.

 _Oh_.

Sam was pretty sure that _clunk_ he'd just heard was his jaw hitting the floor. Dean was wearing _panties_. Holy shit. He looked so unbelievably sexy, and Sam's mouth worked silently as he took in the full picture—black lace, such a sheer scrap of material that it barely held Dean in place, followed by a toned, bronzed chest that was stained pink with the most delicious blush Sam had ever seen. He was left vaguely dizzy as all the blood in his body rushed to his cock, and at first he didn't even recognise the voice that spoke next as his own. "Oh, my God."

Dean fidgeted, fighting the urge to cover himself with his hands. Sam sounded odd, but Dean wasn't sure if it was in a good or bad way. "I just figured they'd be good—and Jesus, they feel good—and I just wanted to—" Dean blew out a breath. "Hell, I'll start rambling, so, um, do... Do you like them?"

"Do I like them?" Sam repeated, incredulous. He was so hard he couldn't think straight. "Fuck, Dean..." Sam held his hand out, and when Dean took it pulled him in until he was close enough for Sam to fondle his cock through the panties. "I _love_ them. Tell me how they feel; what they've been doing to you all day."

Dean swallowed, his cock twitching under Sam's hand. "They feel amazing," he managed to rasp out, his voice rough with arousal. "Soft, clingy. And they've been driving me fucking insane."

"You are so hot," Sam breathed, giving Dean another squeeze before releasing him. When he looked up at Dean, his eyes were burning with love and lust. "Get on the bed. I'm gonna fuck you in them."

Dean nodded eagerly, relief flooding him at Sam's enthusiasm. He hadn't expected Sam to make fun of him—they were still brothers, but Sam would never make fun of something like this—but he hadn't dared to hope for this response. He quickly climbed onto the bed, folding himself over onto his hands and knees.

Sam stood up, quick to strip out of his clothes and grab the lube before joining Dean on the bed. He ran his hand over the curve of Dean's ass, loving the rasp of the lace beneath his palm, and leaned up to press a kiss to his shoulder. "I knew about Rhonda Hurley—did you know that?" he purred as he uncapped the lube.

Dean's head whipped around as he gaped at Sam. "How the hell did you know about that?" he demanded, flushing. He'd thought there'd been no one else in the old house—shack, really—they'd been staying at!

"You sent me to the movies," Sam murmured, pulling the panties aside to rub Dean's hole with a slick fingertip before pressing it inside. "But there wasn't anything I wanted to see, so I came back. Didn't expect you to be fucking her on the couch, but the biggest surprise was the bright pink panties you were wearing while you did it. Hottest thing I'd ever seen." Sam had been trailing his lips down Dean's back as he spoke, and now he paused to lick at the base of his spine. "I was, what, fifteen? Came in my pants, right there and then."

"Jesus," Dean hissed. His back arched, and he pressed against Sam's finger. "Christ, Sam, hurry up." He had to reach under himself and squeeze the base of his cock, fighting off his orgasm.

Sam just smirked and worked another finger in alongside the first, crooking them to rub against Dean's prostate. "You kept them too, didn't you?" he continued evilly. "I found them in your bag a few months later. Did you wear them sometimes? Did you buy more?" 

Dean groaned, his head hanging down. "No," he gasped out. "Left 'em in a motel room. Never bought anymore, either. Not—oh, Jesus, do that again—not till now."

Sam felt his cock twitch. For all that they'd shared so much over the last six years, he was amazed that Dean was trusting him with this particular kink, one he apparently hadn't indulged in since he was nineteen. Sam didn't say anything else for a while; he just focused on stretching Dean open, drinking in the desperate noises he made as he fucked himself on three of Sam's fingers. "You ready?" Sam finally asked, mumbling the words into Dean's hip.

"God, yes, I'm ready. Shut the hell up and _fuck_ me already," Dean gritted out. He canted his hips, spreading his knees apart wider.

Once again Sam was smart enough to keep quiet. He pulled his fingers back and squeezed more lube into his palm to slick up his cock, suddenly just as impatient as his brother. With one hand on Dean's hip, Sam positioned himself at Dean's entrance and moaned as he began to rock into him. 

Dean groaned happily and rocked back against Sam, sighing in content as he felt Sam filling him up. He absently reached back and ran a hand over the fabric of the panties, enjoying the feel of the fabric running over his skin. "C'mon, move," he murmured, rocking his hips enticingly.

Sam caught Dean's wandering hand and pressed it back into the mattress, twining their fingers as he started to move. Maybe it was because they hadn't done this since before they'd left for the hunt, or maybe the sight of Dean in those panties had just got him _really_ worked up, but it felt even better than usual. Dean was tight and hot around him, and he made the most incredible noises as Sam fucked into him, the angle just right to hit his prostate in the best possible way. 

Soon they were both slick with sweat and Sam had his face pressed into the back of Dean's neck, his hips still working tirelessly but his rhythm starting to falter. With a bit of effort, Sam got a hand beneath Dean so he could rub his cock through the black lace. "M'close," he groaned right into Dean's ear. "Come for me. Wanna feel you come in your panties, Dean; do it."

"Oh, God, Sam—" Dean groaned, his hips stuttering. "You can't just say shit like that—" His voice choked off with a cry as Sam rubbed his dick again through the panties, the touch enough to send Dean careening over the edge. He choked out Sam's name, his arms collapsing beneath him, the panties sticking to his spent cock.

The feel of Dean's come soaking through the lace and coating his fingers was _it_ for Sam; he came hard enough that his vision whited out and by the time he came back down, he was sprawled out on top of Dean, both of them breathing hard. Grunting an apology, Sam carefully pulled out of Dean and rolled away, only to tug his brother back into his arms afterwards. He opened his mouth, pretty sure that he was about to say something profound, but all that came out was, " _Fuck_." He always had been eloquent after sex.

Dean snickered. "Believe we just did that," he pointed out. "But thanks for not freaking out; though I wouldn't have worried if you'd told me about seeing the whole thing with Rhonda." He reached down and pulled the panties off, dropping them off the side of the bed. "I'll have to wash those later," he commented, mostly to himself, since Sam was right on the edge of falling asleep. Dean scooted closer to Sam, winding his arms around Sam's broad chest. "Night," he murmured.

Sam didn't even hear him, already fast asleep with a smile on his face. 

***

Life continued as normal over the next month: Sam and Dean did dad stuff, Dakota did teenage boy stuff, and Sable... No one really knew what Sable did, but she had definitely integrated herself into the family with such ease that Sam didn't even question himself when he called her to dinner until about a week after he'd started doing it. They went on a hunt during that time, a simple salt-and-burn that Dakota joined them for, and the black panties made a few more appearances in Sam and Dean's bedroom activities, but other than that nothing happened that was worthy of note.  

Currently they were all in the library. Dakota was making notes from a huge, dusty tome while Sable looked on interestedly; Dean was engrossed in a trashy romance novel; and Sam was surfing the web. He had just confirmed an order for three new pairs of panties that he intended to give to Dean for their anniversary—a pink pair that looked like the ones Dean had worn for Rhonda Hurley, a red pair, and a green thong that Sam thought would bring out Dean's eyes beautifully—when an email from Garth came through. It didn't say much, but it did contain a link to what looked like a newspaper article. Curiosity piqued, Sam clicked on it. 

The article gave details of some jock who had been suspended from school for beating the shit out of one of his teammates in the locker room. Nothing unusual there, except that the kid claimed _he'd_ been attacked first, and that he'd only been trying to defend himself. According to the reporter, there wasn't a mark on him. Still, the guy the jock had named as his attacker and the guy he'd attacked in turn were different people. A quick Google search told Sam everything he needed to know. 

"Got a case," he announced to the room at large, closing his laptop. "I think a kid who goes to RiverheadsHigh School in Greenville, Virginia, is being harassed by a ghost. The suspect committed suicide last year."

The other three beings in the room looked up in interest. "Virginia?" Dean asked. "Don't get many jobs out there.”

"High school?" was Dakota's question, and he felt interest and a little wistfulness stir in his chest. A normal high school wasn't really an option for him; while he had excellent control, he was still going through puberty. If he got too agitated or excited, things started happening.

"It's quite a way out," Sam said thoughtfully, picking up where Dean left off. "We could send it back to Garth, tell him to find someone else to handle it. Unless you have any objections?" This last part was aimed at Dakota. Sam smiled encouragingly, knowing exactly where his son's head was at. They all craved a taste of normality every now and then, and it might not hurt Dakota to actually get one. 

Dakota shook his head eagerly, looking at Dean pleadingly. Even Sable got in on it, padding over to lay a paw on Dean's knee and look up at Dean with her peculiar puppy-dog eyes.

"All right, all right," Dean laughed. "How're we gonna play this?"

Sam grinned and gave Dakota a wink. Between the two of them—now three, with Sable—they could play Dean like a fiddle. "Dakota can enrol, see what's going on at the students' level. You and I can go in as teachers, if there's any vacancies, and caretakers if there aren't. But you're not teaching gym again—those shorts almost did me in last time."

"But Sammy," Dean whined. "That's _why_ they were so much fun!" He grinned. "But fine. I can teach math, I guess. You can teach history. We'll have to create fake credentials, though," he added throughtfully.

"Like we don't do that for every other job we go on," Sam said dryly, rolling his eyes. "Are we going to tell them we're a family?"

Dean considered the idea for a moment. "I don't see why not," he said finally. "We could go in as Dean Smith, Sam Wesson, and Dakota Smith-Wesson." That was the name on the adoption records, and while they all considered their last name to be Winchester, it was probably a better idea to go in under their pseudonyms.

Sam nodded. "Works for me," he said cheerfully, and then grinned at Dakota. "We'll try not to damage your street cred too much, promise."

Dakota stuck his tongue out at Sam, but couldn't keep the disgruntled look on his face under the pressure from his joy fighting to break through. "I'm going to high school!" he whooped happily, jumping up to do a little dance.

***

Thanks to some forged credentials and a phone call from Garth pretending to be a school governor, the three Winchesters walked into RiverheadsHigh School just a week later. By this time, the kid in the article—one Rory Bennett—was back from his suspension, but Dakota hadn't been given instructions to befriend him. "Remember," Sam reiterated as they walked towards the office together to collect timetables and the like, "don't feel like you're under pressure to pump these kids for information. If you find anything out, great, but if not, Pops and I can handle it. Just have fun. Make some friends and talk back to some teachers—as long as they're not us."

"I know—I get to talk back to you at home," Dakota grinned, laughing when Dean cuffed him on the back of the head. Inside of the office, the woman behind the desk gave them a sideways look.

"You are Mr. Smith, Mr. Wesson, and your... son?" she asked, eyeing them.

Dean felt his eyes harden. "Yes. Is there a problem?" he asked sweetly.

"No, of course not," she said, flushing. "Here are your papers. If you need anything, I'm Mrs. Grimm."

Dean tossed her a nod, handing out the packets of paper. "So," he said as they walked out of the office. It was a Sunday, and they were walking around the school to get acquainted with it, figure out where their rooms were, and scan the place with an EMF reader. "Looks like you're in Sam's class, but your math is too advanced for any of my classes, since I've got two Geometry classes and one Trig class."

Dakota nodded. "Yeah. Kinda looking forward to this; I've got Ancient World History to 1500AD, Pre-Calculus, English 11AA, and Latin V. That'll be a joke."

Sam grinned. "If you don't ace Latin, I'm locking you in your room for a month," he teased, before looking expectantly at Dean and the walkman-turned-EMF reader in his hands. "Anything?"

Dean shook his head. "Nope. Nada. C'mon, let's go check out the gym; that's where the article said the kid hanged himself." He reached over to poke Dakota on the arm. "And you can check out where you're gonna kick some kids' asses at basketball during your free block at the end of the day."

At the mention of the gym, Sam immediately brought up the shorts Dean had worn the last time they'd worked in a school once again, just to watch his boys squirm. Those shorts had driven Sam crazy with lust at a time when he'd still been desperate to hide his feelings for his brother even from himself, and now he was getting his revenge by embarrassing Dean with the memory. The only downside was that Dean wasn't the only one blushing; Dakota spent most of their walk to the gym begging them to _please_ stop being so _gross_.

The gym turned out to be a disappointment. The needle on the EMF reader didn't so much as twitch once, and they were all frustrated after the third time of walking at a snail's pace all around the hall, being sure to cover every inch. "Maybe it's not a haunting," Sam suggested, confused. "Maybe Bennett was just making up excuses and we read too much into it." At the obvious dismay on Dakota's face, Sam smiled. "We can still stay here for a while though, just to make sure."

Dean nodded, then made a thoughtful noise as a thought hit him. "Remember that one guy on the movie set, was using the spirits of other actors to kill current ones on whatever that movie was, Hell Hazers II or whatever. He was controlling the spirits. Maybe that's what's happening here; maybe that Bennett kid was the target of a person still alive and in the school."

Dakota turned the idea over in his mind for a moment. "Yeah, that makes sense. Especially with the way that he said he could see it, but no one else reported seeing it. 'Course, no one would say anything to the reporters or police, but there might be something in the gossip tomorrow. I'll make sure to keep an ear out."

Sam grinned proudly and ruffled Dakota's hair, just to piss him off. It was his right as a father, after all. "You're gonna make a fine hunter one day, kid."

Dakota let out an indignant squawk, running his own hand through his hair to fix it. "Thanks, Dad," he grumbled, but it lacked heat.

Dean laughed. "C'mon, let's go check out our classrooms," he said, steering his family out of the gym.

***

The next morning dawned a little too early for everyone's liking, but Sam gathered them all in the kitchen and forced breakfast upon them before they headed off for their first day. As he stood in front of his first class, Sam was acutely aware of the fact that his son was sitting in the middle row. He'd never been nervous about rattling off some bullshit to get people to accept his presence and his authority, but having Dakota as an audience put him on edge. The kid was always watching them both like a hawk, trying to learn but also looking for holes to poke at. Sam needed to do this right.

"Good morning, everyone," he began, and it seemed like the right thing to do as the class repeated the greeting back to him. "My name's Mr. Wesson, and I'm going to be covering Mrs. Hayward's classes until a permanent replacement can be found. I can tell you that she won't be returning but that's _all_ I know, so let's just accept that and try to keep things moving as best we can." That was a lie, and Sam purposefully avoided Dakota's gaze when he voiced it. They both knew that Garth, still posing as a governor, had been conveniently 'provided' with some information about the teachers Sam and Dean were covering for and had demanded their immediate removal from the school's payroll. "According to the notes left behind by Mrs. Hayward, you guys were just starting to look at Ancient Egypt—so, open your textbooks to chapter three and tell me what you know."

By the time his morning classes were over, Sam was more than ready to go home. He was pretty well-versed in Ancient History, but the kids were running rings around him and it was all he could do to keep them from noticing. If they were going to be here for any length of time, Sam realised that he might have to read the textbooks. Then again, he probably would anyway. He didn't like the idea that sixteen year old brats knew more than him. 

Sam was out of his classroom as soon as the bell rang, signalling the start of lunchtime. He'd made sandwiches for himself, Dean and Dakota that morning, so he didn't have to stop off at the cafeteria before going to the staffroom. Somehow, Dean was already there, chatting to another teacher. Sam went over to them. "Hey," he said, sitting down beside Dean and extending his hand to the stranger. "I'm Sam. What are we talking about?"

"Wondering what kicked the two teachers we're replacing out of the school," Dean replied, easily looping his arm around Sam's waist as the woman—Ms. Hawthorne—shook Sam's hand, a disappointed look on her face.

"Oh, are you two together?" she asked.

"Yup. Been together for about fourteen years now," Dean replied cheerfully.

Sam grinned and leaned into Dean, a hand coming up to rest casually in the centre of Dean's chest. "Almost fifteen," he confirmed, making sure to sound as blissfully happy as he actually was. "Our son started here today, too—Dakota. What's the use in being teachers if you can't keep an eye on your own kid, right?"

Dean grinned. "Dakota's a good kid, though. Doubt he'll get in much trouble."

Ms. Hawthorne made an agreeable noise, giving them both a happy look. "Well, good to see that someone's happy here, since Bennett... Well. His ex-girlfriend, Alison Moore, has made quite a bit of trouble."

Dean perked up. "Trouble? What kind?"

Ms. Hawthorne gave him an odd look. "Alison claims he broke up with her a year ago, but only after cheating on her with... Well, with poor Leo. Y'know, the boy who killed himself in the gym."

"Oh." Sam blinked, surprised. This was new information. He exchanged a look with Dean, communicating silently. "We didn't know there'd been a suicide," Sam lied. "What happened?"

"Well, Alison and Rory had hit a bit of a rough patch, maybe two months before they broke up. Then, after Rory finally broke it off, she found out that he'd been cheating on her, with Leo Morten. Leo was openly gay, and he was such a sweet kid. Nice as could be, smart, and was a good friend. Alison, however, couldn't _stand_ him; he'd stolen the star quarterback from her—so she bullied him. Nothing she could get caught for, but I've heard from students that she was relentless. She drove him to suicide." When Ms. Hawthorne was done, Dean looked at Sam, resigned. Humans could be even worse than the monsters they hunted.

Sam sighed and slid down a little in his seat to rest his head on Dean's shoulder, his chest aching with the weight of what he'd just heard. "That's awful," he murmured. "That poor boy..." Now, more than ever, it seemed obvious that Leo _wasn't_ haunting Rory Bennett of his own volition. Rather, Alison was likely to be the one controlling his spirit. They would have to ask Dakota if he'd encountered her when they got home.

Dean nodded, rubbing his hand up and down Sam's shoulder comfortingly. "We'll have to keep an eye on her; I think she's in my Trig class." He just hoped that they could stop her before she went full-on psychotic.

***

Dakota glanced around the cafeteria, chewing thoughtfully on his sandwich. He was sitting with several other juniors who appeared to be mid-range on the popularity scale. They were good kids, though, even if they did have a penchant for gossip.

Erin, one of the girls sitting across from Dakota, elbowed her twin brother, Aaron. _That'll be a pain,_ Dakota thought as Erin whispered something in Aaron's ear. Aaron nodded before turning to Dakota. "You hear about Leo Morten, yet?" he asked conspiratorially. Dakota shook his head in the negative, and Aaron got a sober look on his face.

"Kid offed himself in the school gym last year," Aaron began. "He was openly gay, and was dating the star quarterback."

Alison Moore, who was sitting with the group beside Dakota's, twisted in her seat to glare at Aaron. "That faggot turned my boyfriend gay," she sneered, disgust clear in her voice. "Don't talk about it like they had a beautiful and loving relationship. Leo stole that from _me_."

Dakota looked at the girl in surprise, quickly cataloguing her. She was angry, defensive—no, vindictive. She was also wearing a necklace with a peculiar design—he'd have to look it up later; it made his skin crawl.

"And you are?" he asked politely.

Alison smiled sweetly and extended her hand. "I'm Alison," she introduced herself, giving Dakota an assessing once-over. He was cute. "And _you're_ new. Aren't you Mr. Smith's kid? I had him this morning; he mentioned that he'd just moved here with his son and his wife."

Dakota shook her hand, but her last words didn't sink in til after he'd released it. When he did, he let out a short bark of a laugh. "Jesus, no," he cackled. "Don't let Pops hear you call Dad his 'wife.' Dad will never hear the end of it, and neither will I." He shook his head, still grinning. "I'm Dakota Smith-Wesson. Dad and Pops adopted me about six years ago."

Alison felt her smile falter as she absorbed this information and what it meant. Come to think of it, Mr. Smith _had_ talked about his partner, not his wife, but she'd just assumed... "You have two dads?" she asked, not even trying to hide how unimpressed she was. "How... modern."

Dakota sobered instantly, eyeing her suspiciously. "Hell, didn't realize I'd walked into fag-free territory," he drawled. He'd been working on his accents; it was nice to be able to invent—and act—completely different personas when he wanted to. "This gonna be a problem?"

"What if it is?" Alison asked archly, and now the rest of her group had turned toward them, eyeing Dakota with the same distaste that could be found in her gaze. "You have to admit that it's weird. If you ask me, it's cruel to adopt a child into such a dysfunctional lifestyle." She flicked her hair over her shoulder and leaned into Dakota's personal space, her chin on her hand as though they were about to share a secret. When she spoke, however, her voice was anything but quiet. "You can tell me—do they touch you in the naughty place?" Behind her, Alison's group erupted into cruel laughter.

Dakota smiled sweetly at Alison. "Sweetheart, I don't believe I'm the one with daddy issues here," he said, his voice dripping with false concern. "What's got you so defensive, so over-aggressive? Afraid someone will hurt you, so you hurt them first?" The kids on Dakota's side of the table all "oooooh"'ed, and Dakota simply raised an eyebrow. He'd faced down his psychotic, human-eating monster, and several hunters who'd gotten it into their heads that Dakota had bewitched the Winchesters. He could deal with a petty high school girl.

Likewise, Alison could handle a stupid little boy who didn't know who he was talking to. She grabbed her lunch tray and stood up, looking down at Dakota like he was something nasty that she'd just stepped in. "Don't forget to suck your daddies' cocks nice and hard later," she advised him meanly. "Wouldn't want you to fail your classes because you're a lousy lay." With that she walked away, and the majority of the people at her table followed her, only one or two of them giving Dakota an apologetic look as they passed.

The kids at Dakota's table looked at him in shock, but Dakota rolled his eyes. "If she was a guy, i'd kick her ass for that. She has no idea—Well."

"Well what?" Erin asked, her eyes soft with concern, the look mirrored by her twin's face.

Dakota shrugged. "The center I was staying at was a good place, but... My biological mother was a piece of work, let's leave it at that." Erin and Aaron shared a horrified look, and Dakota really didn't want to know what conclusion they were jumping to. "Anyway, who was that?"

"Alison Moore," Aaron supplied. "She's the head cheerleader; most of the school follows her like sheep."

"Yeah, she was dating Rory Bennett, but honestly? Kid was _always_ gay. Took him a while to figure it out, but he and Leo were happy together. Alison couldn't stand it though," Erin added.

"She bullied Leo. Drove him to kill himself." Aaron looked upset by this, and Erin reached out to lay a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Leo and Aaron were friends. Leo was a good kid; he didn't deserve having Alison on his back like that. And she's been looking for a new target since he died..." Erin's voice trailed off, and Dakota nodded.

"And she just latched onto me," he finished for her. At the twins' sheepish nods, he just grinned. "Dad and Pops are sorta survivalist fans. Trust me, I can defend myself."

***

Later that night, Sam was astounded by the fact that he already had marking to do, and sequestered himself away in the office while he ignored Dean's advice to half-ass it and give them all random grades. Dakota sat with him, doing his homework and catching up on the work he'd missed earlier in the year. By the time they emerged, Dean was putting dinner on the table, and Sam went over to him to kiss his cheek. "You're the fucking best," he hummed appreciatively, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist for a quick cuddle. Sam had missed him today—so what?

As they sat down to eat, everyone seemed to relax. Maybe they'd only been at the school for one day, but it wasn't anything like the life they were used to; all three were exhausted and already feeling the weight that not only the case but their classes would put on them. Sam gave Dakota a smile from across the table, hoping to convey that he understood both his excitement over going to school and what was likely to be his sudden hatred for the place. "So how was everyone's first day?" he asked between mouthfuls. "Dakota, did you make any friends?"

Dakota finished his mouthful before answering. "Yeah; the twins, Erin and Aaron. Wonder what on earth possessed their parents to name them that," he mused thoughtfully before continuing. "Oh, and I already made an enemy, too. Alison Moore, the girl who drove Leo Morten to suicide."

Sam exchanged a quick look with Dean. "We heard about her. Another teacher told us to keep an eye on her. We thought she might be the kid who's controlling Leo's ghost. Did she say anything interesting?"

"Besides telling me to suck yours and Pops's cocks nice and good so my grades didn't fail? She said that Leo stole Rory from her. And she wasn't upset-crying from it; she was upset-vindictive." Dakota leaned down to absently feed Sable a piece of ham when she came over to rub against his leg. "The twins said she's the head cheerleader, so most of the school follows her mindlessly. She's apparently been looking for a new target since Leo offed himself, and now she's latched onto me."

Sam frowned, making a mental note to find this bitch and make her suffer. He'd never experienced homophobia first-hand as a kid, largely because he'd never been openly into guys and he'd never stuck in one place long enough for people to suspect, and it made him ache to think that his son was experiencing it on his and Dean's behalf. Why hadn't they seen this coming, prepared him for it? "Well let her try," Sam said finally, firm but gentle. "You know not to let that stuff get to you, right? Kids can be really mean, but you have to rise above it and—" he cut his gaze to Dean; "— _not_ beat the shit out of anyone who pisses you off."

Dean, who had just opened his mouth to suggest exactly that, closed it and had the grace to look sheepish while Dakota laughed. "I know, Dad. Trust me, I know. I'm _not_ going to beat the crap out of her, mostly because she's a girl. I can't guarantee I won't hit back if she attacks first, but I doubt that's her style. She seems more like the sneaky, go-behind-your-back-and-poison-everyone-against-you type of bully. Which reminds me, I think she is the one controlling the spirit. She had this weird necklace on, had some sort of symbol on the pendant. Creeped the hell out of me; literally made my skin crawl."

Sam nodded. "We thought that, too. She has a direct link to both of the boys involved, so it makes sense. Hopefully we'll be able to wrap this up nice and quick. But listen, if she gives you any more trouble, tell us."

Dakota nodded. "Of course." The three of them had a good relationship; he knew he could tell his dads anything.

***

That night, when Sam and Dean were lying in bed, tangled together, Dean spoke up. "Think he'll really come to us?" he asked, his voice barely above a murmur. "He's a good kid, I know; but he may feel like he should be strong enough to handle this on his own."

Sam nuzzled into Dean's neck, humming in thought. Honestly, he'd been asking himself the same thing. "I hope he will," he said at last. "But maybe not. Especially since she's a girl. I wouldn't have told you if a girl was picking on me when I was sixteen."

"That might've had something to do with the fact that I would have kicked her ass, girl or not," Dean commented, chuckling for a moment before sobering. "But I think you're right... We'll just have to keep an eye on him, even more than usual now that we know she's targeted him." He was quiet for a moment. "Can't believe she made a comment to his face about... _that_ ," he muttered in disgust. "I mean, I know we're in the South, but I didn't think we were _that_ far south."

Sam murmured his agreement and pressed a kiss to Dean's jaw. "Like I said to Dakota, kids can be really cruel, especially about things that are different or that they don't understand. He knows that we love him more than anything, and if he can live with the fact that we're brothers then he knows there's nothing wrong with us being guys—but he grew up in a pretty much exclusively gay community. Aside from having a mom who liked to chow down on same-sex couples, I don't think he's ever come up against people who don't think that way."

"Good point." Dean idly traced patterns on the skin of Sam's back as he thought. "Well, I guess all we can really do is be there if he does want to talk. He'd have to deal with this sort of stuff at some point or other, anyway."

"Because of us," Sam said softly. He wouldn't give Dakota up for the world, but he wished he could protect him from this. Monsters were easy, but people? Sam shuddered and pressed his face into Dean's chest. 

"Yeah," Dean agreed quietly. There was no point in denying it; even though most people didn't know they were brothers, they were in a relationship. A lot of people didn't like same-sex relationships, and they took it out on the kids when they couldn't take it out on the couple. "He's a strong kid, though. You know that. He'll find a way to soldier on, and we'll be there to help him whenever he needs it."

Sam smiled against Dean's skin. Dean was right: Dakota was strong, largely because of what he'd endured as a child but also partly, Sam liked to think, because of their influence. "We're doing good, aren't we?" he asked after a moment. "At this parenting thing. We've not screwed him up yet, I don't think."

"We're doing a hell of a lot better than Dad did," Dean agreed. "Dakota's a good kid. He's sensible. Now c'mon, we gotta be up early tomorrow." He pressed a kiss to this top of Sam's head, and then let himself drift off to sleep.

***

The next day, Alison was changing her books at her locker when one of her friends—read: 'followers'—giggled and pointed at something behind her. Turning, she was delighted when her gaze fell upon Dakota a little way down the hall. She walked up to him. "So, which daddy fucked you last night?" she asked him by way of greeting, leaning casually against the locker beside his. "Or were you a little slut and let them both have you?"

Dakota rolled his eyes as he turned to look at the girl standing next to him. "I'll tell you about _my_ night if you tell me about yours. Or are you too ashamed about being a slut for your own family?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. He _really_ didn't like her, but it was better that, for now, she focus her attention on him. He could take care of himself, better than most of these others could. He'd never faced persecution because of his fathers, but that was no big deal; they were happy together, nothing wrong with that. Even the whole being-brothers thing wasn't an issue, considering the way they'd grown up.

"I'm sorry," Alison said, although she didn't sound sorry at all. "Am _I_ the one with disgusting perverts for parents? Then again, you probably don't see it that way. You probably _like_ it."

"You're right, I do like it; I like that my parents, apparently, love and support me the way yours _don't_. Tell me, Ally-girl, what turned you into such a cold, bitter bitch? Or was it just the fact that your own boyfriend would rather suck another guy's cock than touch you?" Dakota was aware that he was pushing his luck, but this girl _really_ pissed him off.

"How _dare you_!" Alison spat, incensed. For a moment she looked like she was going to hit Dakota, but she restrained herself. Instead, she glared at him, disgusted, and when she spoke again her voice was low, deadly. "You're a _whore_ , Dakota. You bend over for both of your daddies, and any other guy who'll touch you, and I'm gonna make sure everyone knows it." With that, she turned and walked away.

Dakota watched her go, a twinge of... something making him feel slightly nauseous for a second. Maybe he really had pushed her too far...

Dakota gave himself a shake, telling himself there was nothing he could do now. He'd just have to take the fallout.

***

Sam had been looking forward to the class before lunch all day. Yesterday the students had been absolutely delightful; the girls and even some of the guys had seemed appreciative of his appearance, and they'd all appreciated his easy smile and sense of humour. When they walked in this time, however, Sam had to ask himself if his entire class had been possessed. 

The few kids who actually looked at him, _glared_. If looks could kill, he would have been dead and buried before everyone had taken their seats. There was also a low hum of chatter that Sam recognised from his own school days—they were talking about a scandal, something so horrifying and disgusting that they hardly dared give it voice. They were also talking about Sam. Still, it wasn't until he caught one of the girls in the front row mumbling, "—screws his own son!" that he worked it out. Barely able to contain his anger, Sam called the class to order and tried not to think about it until the bell rang.

As soon as his last student left, Sam rushed to the staffroom and dragged Dean outside. "Have you heard?" he demanded once they were alone. "Those little bastards are saying we _fuck our kid_!"

Dean's jaw ached; he'd been gritting his teeth since second block. "Yeah, I heard," he growled. "How much you wanna bet this is Alison's doing? She's already made a comment about it to Dakota, and that was to his face. If she's as popular as Dakota says she is, then he'll never have a prayer of defending himself against it."

Sam nodded, and if he hadn't been blind with rage he would have been relieved that Dean had reached the same conclusion as him. "I'm gonna wring her goddamn neck, the little bitch. How dare she? That's _my son_! No one talks about him like that."

Dean reached out and laid a hand on Sam's arm. "Hey. It's just gossip, Sam. We know it's not true, and so does Dakota. Yeah, this definitely makes things tougher. But it won't matter in the long run; we're only here to find out who's controlling the spirit, then we're out of town for good. Of course," he added thoughtfully, "if she's the one controlling the spirit... Well. Depending on what spell she used to bind it to her, she may well die when we get rid of it."

For a split second, that sounded like a _really_ good idea—but then Sam remembered that he wasn't a monster anymore. He sagged, and rather than storm off to find and murder Alison Moore, he hugged his brother. "She's just a young girl," he huffed, frustrated. "How can she be so _evil_?"

Dean wrapped his arms around Sam, clinging to his brother as much as Sam was clinging to his. "I don't know," he murmured. "I don't know."

***

"What the _hell_ , Dakota?!"

Erin and Aaron slammed their trays down across from Dakota at the same time, making him jump in surprise. "Wha?" he asked intelligently, his eyes wide.

"We heard that you really _did_ screw your dads," Aaron hissed, sitting down at the same time as Erin. Really, for fraternal twins, they were pretty freaky.

Dakota glared at them both, suddenly sick and tired and wanting to go home. "Oh really? And who'd you hear it from? Me? Dad? Pops? Or one of Alison's sheep?" Erin and Aaron opened their mouths, but shut them again, looking sheepish. "That's what I thought. You heard what Alison said yesterday, and this morning I pissed her off even worse. She told me she'd make sure the whole school knew I was gay and a perverted whore."

"Alison's going after you now?" The three of them looked up in surprise as the guy Dakota recognized as Rory Bennett walked over to their table and sat down.

Dakota nodded. "Yeah. I'm new here, so that's not cliche at all, but my parents are gay, and Alison..."

"You didn't immediately fall into line behind her, so now you're an outcast," Erin finished. "Yeah, same thing happened to me and Aaron in the sixth grade. Then I kicked her ass, and people accepted us."

"We'll probably be outcasts again, associating with you," Aaron added. "But it's worth it."

Dakota gave them a grateful grin, then turned back to Rory. "I'm guessing you're kind of an outcast now, too?"

Rory nodded. "Yeah. I mean, not for being gay, that's honestly not that big of a deal. It's for being Alison's enemy."

"Yeah, figured. You were dating Leo, right?"

Rory's eyes clouded over with pain as he nodded. "Leo was an amazing guy. Alison never paid him any attention before we started dating, but after... Yeah, I should've broken up with her first, but something tells me that wouldn't have helped."

"Alison thought he stole you from her, so she punished him," Dakota finished quietly, tentatively reaching out to lay a hand on Rory's shoulder. Rory tossed him a small smile.

Just then, Alison appeared, and her laughter was cruel and loud enough to gain the attention of half the cafeteria. "Look at you two, all snuggled up," she sneered, mean but gleeful. "Your daddies not enough for you, Dakota? You have to seek out my sloppy seconds, too? I'm flattered."

Okay, that was just _not cool._ When Alison had spoken, Rory had stiffened, his gaze falling slightly. Dakota struggled to contain the surge of anger rushing through him. "Hello, Alison," he said coolly. He could feel his skin itching, partly in reaction to the pendant around her neck, and partly from the anger.

"Fuck off, Alison," Erin snarled from across the table.

"The whole school knows Rory never touched you, so he's _not_ your 'sloppy seconds.' _You_ should know what those are, Ms. I-Screwed-The-Whole-Varisty-Football-Team," Aaron finished.

"Ooh, that's _right,_ " Erin purred. "However could we forget? You bragged about it, and we were only in, what, freshman year? The only reason you were even invited to that was because they all knew you'd put out."

Alison levelled the twins with a look of utmost contempt. "I'd watch your mouths if I were you," she advised, before turning back to Dakota. "Good luck with Rory but I have to warn you, the last guy he touched like that ended up dead. I think it was cause he has such a small dick."

Dakota's eyes unconsciously fastened on the pendant. "I don't think it was because of the size of anyone's dick," he said slowly, lifting his gaze to meet hers and letting his eyes flash—just once, barely long enough to be seen—a bright, silvery-gold.

Alison took a step back, unsure of what she'd just seen but disturbed nonetheless. "You're a freak," she hissed savagely. "Just like Leo was; just like Rory is. But you're welcome to each other. Invite him over for dinner, I'm sure your dads would love the change. They must be getting sick of your face by now." She didn't stick around for Dakota's comeback.

The other three all looked at Dakota in shock. "What?" he asked, unsure.

"Alison _never_ backs down," Rory said slowly.

"And she never, _ever_ looks scared," Erin added.

"But she _was_ scared," Aaron finished.

"Of me?" Dakota forced a laugh. "Dude, I don't know what you guys are on, but—"

"But nothing," Rory said forcefully. "Alison was scared of you. What the hell did you do? Some freaky Jedi mind trick?"

Dakota smiled weakly. "Something like that."

***

It had been decided during their lunch hour that Sam and Dean wouldn't bring up the rumours that had started circulating, but would rather wait and see if Dakota would come to them. When they got home, all three of them separated to their own corners of the office to deal with various school things  before Sam got up to fix dinner. Dean came to 'help'—mostly by groping his ass and then bandaging his hand when he jumped at said groping and sliced it open—but they were both too on edge to indulge in their usual antics while they waited for the pasta to come to the boil. Even so, Dakota, far too used to walking in on his dads kissing whenever Sam cooked, stayed away until Dean called him to the table.

"So," Sam began casually once they'd all settled into their food. "How was everyone's day?"

Dakota was just pushing his food around his plate, even though pasta was his favorite meal. He worried his lower lip for a second before sighing and putting his fork down. "Ran into Alison this morning."

Dean exchanged a look with Sam. "What happened?" he asked, even though they both knew already.

"Couldn't resist poking at her a bit more. Pushed it too far, asked if she was such a bitch because her ex would rather suck cock than touch her. Suppose you guys heard the rumors." Dakota stared morosely at his plate, even when Sable padded over, mrowing softly and jumping up onto his lap. He absently wrapped his arms around her, petting her gently.

Sam gave Dakota a sad smile, and wished his son would look at him. "Yeah, we heard," he said softly. "Are you okay?"

Dakota shrugged. "I know none of it's true, but it makes me sick, anyway, that one girl can... Well, anyway, she threatened me. With the pendant, and Leo's spirit. And, well, you know how I react to threats."

Dean knew all too well; one hunter a few years ago had gotten Dakota alone, threatened him for "corrupting the best damned hunters on the planet." When Sam and Dean had shown up, the guy was out cold, covered in cuts and bruises, and Dakota had simply walked off, leaving Sam and Dean to clean up. "Please tell me you didn't hit her."

Dakota shook his head, chuckling ruefully. "No, I didn't hit her. Might as well have, though. I showed her my eyes."

Sam let out a breath, his gaze briefly flickering to Dean. "Did anyone else see?" he asked, with the kind of calm only a parent could pull off. 

Dakota shook his head. "They didn't see the eyes," he clarified. "Alison was all up in my space, and my back was to the others at my table. Pretty sure they all saw her back away, though. Erin, Rory, and Aaron all commented on it. Said Alison _never_ backs down, and never runs off, but she did both."

"Well, that might help your reputation some," Sam conceded thoughtfully. "But please try not to do it again. Keeping up appearances aside, if she is a witch then she might have the means to work out what you are, and by extension, why we're here."

Dakota shook his head slowly. "I don't think she's a witch. I think she stumbled on this, how to control the spirit. Like that preacher's wife with the reaper that you guys told me about." Dakota picked up his fork and took a bite of his pasta, chewing and swallowing before continuing. "I'm gonna research it a bit after dinner; I think Alison's using a binding charm. Not a spell, that would require knowledge, but a charm..."

Sam and Dean looked at each other, both nodding. That made sense. "Okay, well if you need us to help, just ask," Sam said, smiling at Dakota. He was proud of his son, and he had to agree with what Dean had said last night; they were doing a better job with him than John had ever done with them.

Dakota tossed the two of them a grateful grin. "I will," he promised.

***

Andy couldn't sleep.

Not in the too-tired/buzzed/horny way, in the holy-fucking-shit-something's-in-my-room-staring-at-me-it's-gonna-kill-me-I'm-gonna-die way.

He was laying on his bed, facing the wall, eyes screwed shut and his pillow pulled over his head, an inch away from hyperventilating. Not the most productive way to avoid being killed by unseen menaces, but Andy was scared shitless, okay? Couldn't blame him.

Something moved. Even though the thick pillow, he could hear it. A soft noise, like a breath of wind. It was everywhere and nowhere. Andy's breathing was practically nonexistent now, and his eyelids actually hurt from how tightly he was keeping them shut.

Then the something yanked his pillow out of his grip and Andy's eyes flew open, a scream ready to leave his throat. It choked off on a gasp, though, when he saw who was in his room.

"Leo?" he whispered. Leo was his best friend and his ex—the "ex" part had come first. Leo looked... tormented. Like he didn't want to be here—and he didn't. He'd hanged himself in the school gym; had borrowed the really tall ladder the janitors had to get balls and Frisbees out of the rafters, tied a rope around his neck and to a rafter, then jumped. Andy could see the marks around Leo's throat from where the rope had caught him.

Leo gave him an apologetic, tortured look, then vises clamped down around Andy's body and the pillow smashed itself against his face.

***

When they got into school the next day, Sam and Dean found themselves dragged into the principal's office. Sensing that this might have something to do with the rumours Alison Moore had been spreading about them and Dakota, they readied themselves for a fight—but Mr. Walker just looked grim. "I've just finished explaining this to the rest of the staff but I need to tell you, as well," he began. "We lost a student last night."

Sam exchanged a quick look with Dean. "Lost a student?" he repeated

"Andrew Morris was murdered last night," the principal told them. He continued speaking, but Sam barely heard him. "...students already know, how could they not? But everything has to carry on as normal..." Was Alison _killing_ now?

"I'm sorry, what did you say?" Sam interrupted.

"There's going to be a two minute's silence before lunch," Mr. Walker said again. "Andy was a good kid. We're all gonna miss him. It'll be tough to get the students through this, especially after Leo last year, but we have to help them in any way we can."

Sam nodded, looking at Dean. "Yeah. We think you're right."

The principal let them go shortly after that, and while Sam had to go to his first block class, Dean quickly hunted down Dakota.

He found his son standing next to his locker, talking to who must have been Erin and Aaron. "Dakota," he called. Dakota turned at the sound of his dad's voice, and Dean could see Dakota already knew. "Yeah, Pops. I head about Andy." He cast a quick sideways glance at the twins. "Erin and Aaron said he dated Leo for a couple of months their sophomore year."

Dean sucked in a breath, his hands forming into fists. Dammit, this had Alison written all over it. "Keep an ear out," he told Dakota, his voice low, before walking to his class.

The twins gave Dakota a curious look. "Keep an ear out for what?" Aaron asked.

Dakota shrugged. "More trouble from Alison, I guess."

***

Sam dealt with grieving kids all morning, but aside from the first—the one Dakota was in—he didn't have any classes with people who knew Andy. The students were still upset and scared, but few people cried the way they had in Dakota's class; Andy had been in that group too. The whole thing made Sam ache, and by lunch he was once again ready to rend Alison limb from limb.

He met Dean in his classroom a little after the bell sounded and shut the door behind him. "We need to stop her," he said by way of greeting. "She's killing now. What if she goes after Dakota next?"

Dean laid his head on the desk for a moment before he answered. "Thing is, we can't pin her on this. All we've got is that her ex's boyfriend hanged himself, then his spirit harrassed her ex, and now one of the spirit's exes is dead, presumably murdered by the spirit. Dakota's had no luck with the pendant, and neither have we. We don't have anything _solid_ , Sammy."

"Then we need to find something," Sam insisted. "It's her, Dean. We know it's her!"

"I know, Sam," Dean said soothingly, standing up and reaching out to grab Sam's upper arms, rubbing circles with his thumbs. "I know, you know, and Dakota knows. We _will_ find her; when haven't the Winchesters beaten their monster?"

Sam's hands fell to Dean's waist and for a long moment they just stood there, watching each other process and compartmentalise. After a moment, Sam smiled. "I think one of the girls in the office has a crush on me," he said slowly. "I could probably get Alison's locker combination?"

Dean laughed. "Sammy, you thinking of going straight on me?" he teased, reaching up to lightly flick Sam in the center of the forehead. "But that sounds like a plan."

Sam grinned and swatted Dean's hand away. "That's right; I've suddenly remembered how awesome boobs are," he deadpanned, rolling his eyes. "I'll be back, okay?" Sam slipped out of the room, and after a brief flirting session with Jan in the office, returned with a slip of paper held between his fingers. "Come on," he said, low and conspiratorial. "If we get caught, I'm blaming you."

Dean glanced up at the clock. "We should wait until after school, Sam." Spotting Sam's mutinous look, he hastened to explain, "Kids move around a lot during lunch. It's too risky, especially with the rumors going around about us right now. We _will_ check it out, Sam, I promise, but we should wait for later, when we _know_ we won't be interrupted."

Sam continued to scowl at Dean. Sure, normally he had more patience, and more tact, than this—but he wanted to do it now. That stupid little girl had killed someone, and she'd taken a distinct disliking to _their son_. Still, Sam knew Dean was right. If they got caught, Alison would be onto them far too early and no one knew what she would do if she felt cornered. "Fine," he muttered, defeated. "But if the bitch puts one toe out of line in the class I'm covering for Sue this afternoon..."

Dean laughed. "The point is to lay low," he reminded Sam. " _Not_ to get arrested for harassing a student."

"Harassing?" Sam snorted. "Try assaulting. We told Dakota he couldn't hit her but parents aren't supposed to practice what they preach." He gave Dean a wry smile and moved toward the door again. "I have to go, okay? Sue asked me to talk to her before she leaves for her doctor's appointment. Make sure you eat something."

"I will," he promised. As he watched Sam leave, Dean wasn't sure whether or not to hope they found something later that night.

***

Dakota watched the Impala pull out of the driveway, a slight feeling of relief radiating through him. "C'mon, Sable. We've got a pendant to research." The Companion followed him through the house and to the office, where Dakota settled in front of the laptop and opened Google.

It didn't take much to break into the school. Sam worked on disarming the security system while Dean picked the lock on one of the side doors, and then they were in. Sam handed Dean the piece of paper he'd gotten from Jan earlier as they walked up to the lockers, squinting at the tiny numbers etched into the handles. "Is that a four?" Sam asked, bending to get a closer look. "Yeah. This is it."

Dean easily dialed the locker open, and pulled the door back. He made a face at the interior of the locker; it was straight out of High School Musical(he'd only seen it because he got drunk with Garth; shuddup.) Pictures of hot guys from various magazines were taped to the inside of the locker, makeup was arranged on the bottom shelf, and various textbooks and handbags were crammed onto the top shelf. It made Dean slightly nauseous to look at.

Sam let out a low whistle as he took in the chaos of Alison's locker. "I don't even know where to start," he said nervously, glancing sideways at Dean. They would have to put anything they moved back exactly where they found it, too; teenage girls always knew when someone had been in there stuff, although Sam couldn't explain how. 

Dean eyed the mess warily. "Textbooks," he said finally. "High school kids all cram random shit into their textbooks." He picked up one and starting rifling through it.

Sam followed Dean's example, grabbing a textbook and flipping through the pages. The first thing that fell out was a note, passed between Alison and her friend, about a teacher's ass—Dean's ass, he realised as he read on. Torn between amused and disgusted, Sam replaced the note and continued to look through the book. "Anything?" he asked after a few minutes.

Dean stared at a note that had fallen out of the history textbook. "Well," he said, his voice strangled, "think Alison's maybe just a _bit_ jealous of the position she's placed Dakota in." He wordlessly passed over the note, in which Alison detailed _exactly_ what she'd do if she had Dean and Sam as her adoptive parents. "Fucking _hell_ , man, were kids this fucked up in the head when you were in high school?"

Sam shrugged and handed the note back to Dean. The amusement was definitely mostly disgust now—Alison was insane. "You're talking to the kid who fell in love with his big brother," he pointed out. "You tell me."

"But that's special," Dean said, grinning. He shoved the note back where it had come from, flipping through the rest of the book. Once they were done and shoving the stuff back in, Dean said, "Well. I'm pretty convinced she's the one responsible."

Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "But are you any more convinced than you were when we started this?" he asked.

"Yeah, I am." Dean reached over and laid a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Alison is fucking insane, and more than crazy enough to sic a ghost on kids she doesn't like. Cmon, let's go see if Dakota found out what kind of charm she's using."

Sam nodded, leaning into Dean's touch. He swept his gaze over the contents of Alison's locker one last time, checking that everything was in its proper place, before pushing the door shut. "Okay. Let's go."

Dean re-locked the door they'd entered through, and it took Sam a little longer to get the security system up and running again, but at last they were on their way home. The place was quiet when they got inside, but there was light coming from beneath the office door—as if they didn't know where Dakota was already. They went in and smiled when he looked up; Sam drew up beside him, fingers sliding affectionately through his hair. "Hey," he said softly. "How's it going?"

Dakota grinned tiredly at them, absently scratching Sable under the chin. "Alison is choosing the targets—indirectly, at least—but she's not the one controlling the spirit. The symbol on her pendant is a focuser, like the lens on a magnifying class. Except someone else is controlling the stick, or in this case, the spirit."

Sam blinked, shocked, and looked over at Dean. "We were so sure it was her," he mused. "Whether she's the power behind it or not, she has to know it's happening. Right?"

"How could she not?" Dean asked, looking between his son, brother, and cat. "She's insane, not stupid. She has to have realized what's happened."

"I talked to a couple of other kids," Dakota added. "Alison was harassing Andy before we showed up."

Dean nodded. "So that's the second kid Alison's been pissed at that's shown up dead. Third she's attacked."

Sam growled in frustration. They couldn't let this keep happening, especially now that people were dying—and with Dakota involved, the need to resolve the situatiom felt even more urgent. "What do we do?" he asked. "Do we try to find the accomplice or do we just confront Alison, frighten her into getting the accomplice to stop?"

Dakota shook his head, Sable mirroring the movement emphatically. "That'll just _really_ —Oh _fuck._ "

"What?" Dean asked, alarmed as the blood drained from Dakota's face. "Dakota, what is it?"

"My metaphor. About the magnifying class. Oh _shit_ , if this's—Sable, help me find that book about scrying!" Sable jumped off of the table and paced along shelves, Dakota covering the other side until Sable let out a triumphant _mrow!_

Dakota raced over, grabbed the book, and flipped through it frantically before finally stopping and scanning a page. He groaned and tossed it onto the table, and Dean picked it up, reading aloud.

"Scrying objects are not always used to scry consciously. Some mages prefer to leave their lenses open indefinitely, to be viewed at any time. Most often, this occurs when a mage has their apprentice carrying a focuser. The mage then sees whatever the focuser sees." Dean looked up in horror, all of the dots connecting. "Fuck. When you eye-flashed Alison—"

"If the mage was watching, they saw it," Dakota finished miserably. "Scrying doesn't even require _power_ , just force of will and certain metals and minerals."

Sam squeezed Dakota's shoulder, but his eyes when he looked at Dean were wide and frightened. Even so, he managed to keep his voice calm as he spoke. "Okay, well, nothing's happened to you yet, right?" he began, trying to be rational about this. "So maybe the mage didn't see it—or maybe they don't understand what they saw. We don't need to panic yet." But they _did_ need to end this, and it sounded like they were running out of time.

"Jesus _Christ_ , Dad; I almost blew the case!" Dakota snarled, shrugging out from under Sam's hold and shoving himself to his feet. "Don't try to fucking—"

" _Dakota,_ " Dean snapped, glaring at his son. " _Don't_ talk to your father like that."

Dakota glared right back for a moment before his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Sorry," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "Just—I almost screwed this whole thing up."

Despite Dakota's outburst, Sam wasn't to be deterred. He closed the distance between them and gave his son a hug. "No, you didn't," Sam said softly, drawing back. "Even if the mage saw and knows you're a shifter, that doesn't blow the case. Shifters and hunters don't exactly go hand-in-hand, y'know?" He took a breath then, and exchanged a look with Dean. "What you _did_ do was potentially put yourself in danger, but like I said, there's no need to panic. We'll keep you safe."

"It's not exactly a secret that the Winchesters are running with a shifter," Dakota pointed out, plopping down cross-legged into his chair, Sable jumping into his lap. "We're gonna have another hunter showing up soon. 'S what happened last time."

"And we'll deal with it. I'm pretty sure Alison doesn't know she's got the focuser—which argues that it was a gift from a family member," Dean said. "We just need to figure out who."

"Please don't worry," Sam added, watching his son carefully. "We've dealt with other hunters before, and you're still with us, aren't you? We're not going to let anything happen. Trust us." 

Dakota nodded. "I trust you guys," he said. "You know I do." He blew out a shaky breath. "Guess all this crap with Alison's just getting to me a little bit; making me more on edge." The room was quiet for a few moments before saying, "I'm gonna go run through my exercises."

Dean tossed Dakota a small smile. "Go ahead and blow off some steam," he said, squeezing the young shifter's shoulder. "Just clean up after yourself."

"I will," Dakota promised, already feeling his skin itch with the promise of shifting, seeing how far he can adjust his appearance without completely shedding.

Sam waited until he heard Dakota's door shut behind him before sagging, dropping into the chair his son had just vacated. He looked up at Dean. "So what the fuck do we do now?"

"Now, we hope to God we're wrong about another jackass hunter showing up, and we try to figure out who in Alison's family is an aspiring, interfering mage," Dean replied, moving closer so he could bend down to kiss Sam reassuringly.

***

In his room, Dakota was standing in front of his full-length mirror in only his boxers, studying his reflection. He had changed his appearance slightly over the years; his hair was darker now, closer to black than brown, and his eyes were a piercing blue tinted with green around the pupils. He was tall, almost as tall as Dean, but he was skinny like Dean had told him Sam was when he was sixteen. His skin was a natural tan, and that was what he worked on first, narrowing his eyes in concentration as he carefully lightened and then darkened the skin before moving on to the other parts of his body.

His skin was a bit like an elastic band; it stretched easily with these smaller changes, but while the more he made, the easier it was to change, the harder it was to keep the change from slipping out of his desired range. Eventually he had to shed fully, returning to his favorite appearance.

Except this time, when he knew he'd have to switch out his skins, as he turned away from the mirror, his hips caught his eye and he froze, studying them intently. At this angle, from the waist down he looked... almost feminine. It sparked an idea in him. He'd never tried a gender swap before.

Shifting into some aspect of someone else required physical contact of at least a minimal nature with said someone else. Dakota was a tactile person by both nature and personality, and he came into physical contact with _plenty_ of people, and plenty of girls, considering they still flirted with him despite—or maybe, sickening as the thought was, because of—Alison's rumors.

Dakota decided to keep it simple; he'd try to shift to look like Erin, the girl he had the most physical contact with. It was easier when he closed his eyes, so that's what he did; he closed his eyes, and tried to recall Erin's blueprint—what he called the feeling his got from touching her, absorbing information about her body.

He hissed slightly as he shifted; it was tougher than he was used to, considering some bits had to retract and others had to grow. But when he was done, there was a pile of discarded skin on the floor at his feet, and he was looking at a near-perfect replica of Erin.

And... it felt odd. Not bad-odd, no. Kind of... unsettling-because-it-felt-so-natural-odd. He'd expected to feel at least a little weird, at least because he was wearing one of his best friends' bodies if for no other reason. But it felt just as natural as wearing his own skin did.

He'd yet to master the trick of shifting with clothes—he'd seen full-grown and centuries-old shifters shift with a full three-piece suit, complete with watch, tie, and shoes—so he was standing in Erin's nude body, and _Christ_ he just knew he was going to stare at her left hip the next time he saw her, just where she had a smattering of moles in the shape of a star. Which wouldn't be weird, at all.

Dakota looked over his shoulder at where Sable was watching him intently. "Well, Sable, whaddaya think?" Jesus, he even sounded like her. Made sense, he supposed. Sable just mrowed and tilted her head to one side. Dakota chuckled and shifted back to his skin after another few moments' study, barely refraining from letting himself touch this body—while it may have technically been his, it wasn't his blueprint, and would just feel too much like actually touching Erin, which, just, no. Too weird; sibling-touching might work for Dad and Pops, but even pseudo-sibling touching wasn't something Dakota was comfortable with doing himself.

But as he was cleaning up, Dakota's mind kept wandering to the image of himself with... all those bits—and one day he was going to have to grow(ha) some balls and say words like "breasts" and "clit" and "pussy" and "vagina" and all those—and wondering what it would feel like to go out in public like that, as a girl.

***

Nothing happened for about a week. Alison continued to harass and spread rumours about Dakota, who seemed to be withdrawing more and more each day, but Sam and Dean couldn't for the life of them figure out who was controlling Leo's spirit. Leo himself hadn't made another appearance, as far as they knew, but that didn't mean it was over—and it certainly didn't mean they were letting whoever was behind this get away with it. They kept looking, but they also kept coming up with nothing.

It was a Tuesday morning when the game changed considerably. Car troubles meant that they were a little late into school, and Sam and Dean walked into the staffroom just in time to see a guy in a suit offering a badge to Mr. Walker. Even from a distance, Sam immediately knew it was a fake. He grabbed Dean's arm to stop him from walking further into the room, holding him back so that the new guy couldn't see them. "Hunter," was all he said, but it was enough. 

Dean gritted his teeth, nodding slightly and feeling immensely glad that they made Dakota ride the bus this morning. "C'mon," he muttered. He led the way into the office, smiling brightly at Mrs. Grimm. "Hello; just popping in to check our mailboxes." The staff each had their own "mailbox" in a room just off the office, where important papers were stashed.

They stood together, rifling through various notes and early/late homework assignments and pretending that they weren't keeping an eye on the new hunter. The guy seemed to be telling Mr. Walker that he was an FBI agent, looking into the murder of Andy Morris; apparently, he wanted to interview Andy's teachers, hoping to get a better feel for what the kid's life had been like, if he'd had any enemies, that sort of thing. Mr. Walker lapped it all up, much to Sam's irritation, and told the guy that he could take all the time he needed and that all of his staff members would be available for him to talk to. Sam wasn't even surprised when the guy thanked Mr. Walker for his cooperation and then proceeded to make a beeline for him and Dean, but he was mildly disappointed. They weren't this obvious, this predictable when they worked a case, were they?

Dean watched the hunter approach, eyeing him with an amused glint in his gaze. "Anything we can do to help you?" he drawled.

"Yeah," the hunter drawled, looking at them with a mean glint in his eye. He showed them his badge, but Sam could tell it was just for show. "Name's Eliot Stone, and I wanna talk to you boys about Leo Morten's ghost."

Dean just smiled sadly and shook his head. "Sorry, but my partner and I are busy right now; we need to get to our next class. Maybe we can talk during lunch." With that, he grabbed his mail and Sam's, and Sam's arm and dragged him out of the office behind him.

Sam followed Dean, and even though he didn't look back he could feel Eliot's gaze burning into the back of his head. "That was a little forward," he observed uneasily as they moved through the crowd of students. "He definitely knows who we are."

Dean rolled his eyes. "We're the Winchesters. Not exactly small-time hunters," he pointed out, his voice low. "We'll keep an eye on him."

"We're gonna have to talk to him at lunch," Sam pointed out, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. "Maybe we can convince him that we've got it under control and make him leave." Even as he said it, Sam knew that it was unlikely. Whether Eliot was here for Leo Morten or not, the fact that he now knew that the Winchesters were involved meant he would likely turn his attention to Dakota. Just like last time. 

Sam and Dean shared a brief kiss, much to the delight and disgust of nearby students, before going their separate ways. It was going to be a long day.

***

Dakota felt watched, all day. It wasn't the same watched he'd felt from Dad and Pops since the day in the office, and it wasn't the watched feeling he got from the students who believed Alison's stories. It had more intent behind it.

It wasn't until Erin, Aaron, and Rory all showed up outside his class when the lunch bell rang that Dakota spotted him. His stance gave him away as a hunter, and as his three friends dragged him down the hall, Dakota felt _everything_ from the past two weeks finally reach the boiling point; Alison, Leo's ghost, their inability to find who was controlling it, and his own uncertainty about who he was, really.

He hoped that bastard tried to question him, he really, _really_ did.

Dakota wasn't the only one who had noticed the attention he was getting; as soon as she saw him sit down at his usual table, his followers still in line for food, Alison was there. "So are your parents renting your ass out now?" she asked casually, taking Rory's empty seat. "That guy over there looks very eager to get you alone."

"And what does this say about you, Alison?" Dakota snapped, slamming his tray down. " _You're_ the one who keeps seeking _me_ out."

"Dakota?" The twins and Rory appeared at his back, and Dakota was grateful for their support. "Want us to—"

"No," he said quietly. "Don't bother. She's not worth it."

Rory coughed pointedly, staring at Alison as Erin and Aaron sat down beside Dakota. "No one wants you here, Alison," he said calmly. "So why are you still here?"

Alison shrugged. "Someone needs to make sure that he and everyone else knows his place. He's nothing but a filthy cock whore." She smiled sweetly up at Rory. "Just like you."

Dakota hated that blank, shuttered look that came over Rory's face, and that was _it._ "Get the hell out of my _sight_ ," he snarled, his eyes flashing again as he lunged to his feet, grabbing Alison by the upper arm and hauling her bodily from the chair before shoving her back almost hard enough to knock her on her ass. He was aware that he'd probably just painted a giant-ass bull's eye on his forehead, but he really didn't care. _No one_ should be able to get away with the shit she had.

"Get the hell out of here," he repeated, struggling to keep his skin from giving away exactly how pissed he was; he'd given up on his eyes completely.

Alison stared at Dakota, shaking with rage but also visibly frightened. "You're gonna pay for that," she hissed, furious—but she didn't elaborate on how. Instead, she was quick to make herself scarce. Something about Dakota truly scared her.

In all the commotion, no one noticed the smile on Eliot's face. The shifter kid had just given him exactly what he needed.

***

Dean looked at Sam nervously. "Where the hell is he?" he muttered, pacing agitatedly. He didn't think Stone would do something to Dakota while school was in session, but... He didn't trust Stone as far as he could throw him.

Sam shook his head. He couldn't answer Dean's question, and the agitation he was feeling wouldn't help. Dean was freaking out enough for the both of them. Just as he was about to reach out and stop the goddamn pacing, someone spoke.

"So you're the Winchesters." Both Sam and Dean whirled around to see Stone approaching them, a wicked smirk on his lips. They'd chosen to meet in Sam's classroom, and it was a little unnerving to discover that this guy could open and close the door without them even noticing. "How the mighty have fallen."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam demanded, angry.

Stone just raised an eyebrow. "It means," he drawled, "that your kid is a monster."

"You're about six years behind the times," Dean said, rolling his eyes. "Our kid is a shifter, yeah. But he's never killed anyone."

"Not yet," Stone said smoothly, perching on a desk and smiling condescendingly at the two men. "But he will be. You can't fight nature, boys. He nearly beat the shit out of some poor girl in the cafeteria today."

Dean froze, glancing over at Sam. "Alison," he said in disgust. "That 'poor girl' is the reason there's a ghost here killing people, you stupid—" He made himself take a deep breath. "She's a piece of work, but we've got this under control. You've wasted your time here."

Stone shrugged, and Sam could tell that they weren't going to get through to him. He took a step closer to Dean. "Maybe that girl is behind the ghost's activity," Stone said, "but you haven't got _anything_ under control. That kid is a danger to society, and he has quite a temper; he won't be kept under his daddies' thumbs for much longer."

"We don't have to keep him under our thumbs," Sam argued, incensed. "He's a good kid, man."

Stone snarled. "He's not a kid at all. He's evil. And he needs to be put down before he comes into his own."

Dean froze. Completely. He stared at Stone, and then asked, very slowly and very clearly, "You planning on putting our son down?"

"I'm giving you the option to do it yourselves," Stone answered, matching Dean's tone.

"And you know that ain't gonna happen," Dean answered, his hands clenching into fists. "Dakota is a good kid; you saying you had perfect control when _you_ were a teenager?"

Stone shrugged. "It wasn't programmed into my genetics to kill innocent people, so there isn't much comparison."

"Programmed into your genetics? What the hell are you, some sort of robot? Dakota was _ten_ when we found him, and his _mother_ was using him for _bait._ You know what he told us? Stop her, whatever it takes. He told us he didn't _want_ anyone dead, hated it. He's no more of a monster than any other kid who had a fucked up family," Dean snarled.

Sam laid a hand on Dean's arm, hoping to soothe him. Getting mad at Stone wasn't going to help anyone, as Stone himself was proving.

"He was a kid back then, but he isn't now," the other hunter persisted. "Nature always wins over nurture, and no matter how much the kid might not _want_ to be a monster, the fact remains that he _is_. Pretty soon he won't be able to fight it anymore, and the next girl like the one in that cafeteria won't just be shaken up; she'll be dead."

"He knows I'm right," Stone told Sam, smirking.

Sam took a deep breath. "He doesn't," he said carefully, "but I do."

Stone blinked. "You do?"

"Yeah. His control has been slipping a lot lately, and I haven't wanted to see it, but from what you've told us he did today I can't turn a blind eye anymore." Sam bit his lip, visibly torn. "It won't be necessary for you to take Dakota out. I'll talk to Dean, and if I can't get through to him... I'll do it myself."

Surprised but pleased, Stone stood up from the desk and clapped Sam on the shoulder. "Good man," he said bracingly. "You know it's for the best."

Sam nodded. "I do," he agreed, shrugging out from under Stone's arm and following Dean from the classroom. Once again, he could feel Stone watching him go, and prayed that the other hunter believed him.

Dean was standing in his empty classroom, pacing back and forth and resisting the urge to flip a couple of desks. How _dare_ that hunter try to suggest—God, Dean could barely even _think_ it. No one was getting near Dakota, not if Dean could do anything to prevent it.

Sam watched Dean from the doorway for only a brief moment before he walked up to him and enveloped him in a hug. "I put him off as best I could," Sam murmured, his lips pressed to Dean's temple. "Told him that I agreed with him; that I'd deal with Dakota myself. I think he bought it."

Dean let himself sag against Sam, his arms coming up to wrap around his brother. "I'm the oldest; I should be comforting you," he muttered. "But I hope he did buy it, too. Otherwise..." _It'll be repeated history._

Sam stroked a hand up and down Dean's back, soothing him. It didn't matter that Dean was the oldest, even though Dean would probably never see that. "If the worst comes to the worst, Dakota can take care of himself," Sam reminded him gently. "It'll be okay."

Dean nodded, fisting the back of Sam's shirt in his hands. "Yeah. Sure," he mumbled.

***

It felt like every eye in the school had been trained on Dakota for the rest of the day. Dakota was sick and tired of attention; all he wanted was a couple of hours by himself.

"Hey," Rory said, coming up behind Dakota after their last class. "You seem stressed."

Dakota laughed, but it sounded hollow, even to him. "Bit of an understatement, that," he muttered.

Rory studied him intently enough to make Dakota shift uneasily on his feet. "C'mon. I got a place I can show you; no one ever goes there during the week. It's safe," he said finally, looking at Dakota hopefully.

Dakota nodded, because why the hell not? Not like Rory was going to attack him or anything.

Rory's "place" ended up being the announcer's booth on the other side of the football field; he had a key. "Swiped it from the janitor," he said in explanation, unlocking the door. "Whenever I need a quiet place, I come here, leave all the lights off. It's peaceful, makes me feel like the outside world can't get in."

Dakota set his bookbag down, sinking to the floor and leaning against the wall, sighing softly.

"Thanks, for showing me," he said quietly. "These past few weeks have been—"

"Hell?" Rory offered.

Dakota bit back a laugh; Rory had no idea what Hell was like. "Something like that," he agreed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

He heard rustling beside him, and then Rory was sitting next to him, pressed against his side, wrapping an arm around Dakota's shoulders and pulling the teen against him. Dakota went easily, laying his head on Rory's shoulder. The two boys were quiet for several moments. Dakota had never really had friends before; he had Dean, Sam, and Sable, but Sable couldn't talk to him, and Dean and Sam were his fathers first and foremost. It was nice to have someone there to lean on. 

Dakota pulled back, opening his mouth to say something, but it was cut off by the feeling of Rory's lips against his. Dakota was shocked into freezing, and once his brain caught up, he jerked back, scrambling away from Rory, who looked just as shocked as Dakota felt. "Shit, Dakota, I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"It's fine," Dakota said, cutting him off and smiling tensely. He had a feeling it looked more like a grimace. "Look, Rory, I'm sorry, but, I just—It's not that I'm not interested, or not gay or whatever, but—" He blew out a breath. "It's just—relationships are a bad idea for me. We move around a lot, and it's not fair, to anyone involved, and—"

"I get it," Rory said, nodding slowly. He still looked a bit ashamed, and Dakota's gut twisted. "I really didn't intend to kiss you, Dakota. It just happened."

Dakota offered Rory another smile, and this time it felt more genuine. "Dude, you're fine. Besides, who _wouldn't_ want a piece of this?" he asked, grinning and gesturing to his torso. Rory laughed, and Dakota grinned, moving to sit next to Rory again, letting the older boy put his arm back around Dakota.

"Still friends?" Rory asked, his voice uncertain.

"Still friends," Dakota agreed.

***

Stone had known the moment the words left his mouth that Sam Winchester was full of shit. No way was he going to kill his kid; he just wasn't that kind of guy. Still, Stone gave him a day to make the right decision, and when Dakota was still alive and kicking when he returned to the school, Stone had no choice but to take matters into his own hands. He waited until the end of the day, and then positioned himself in the main corridor and waited.

He spotted Dakota almost immediately, and was pleased to note that he was being swept along with the tide of students rather than walking out with his friends. That made it a lot easier to snatch him from amidst the chaos and drag him into an empty classroom. Within seconds he had the door locked, the lights off and a silver knife brandished in the kid's face. This was going to be way too easy.

Dakota was just about done with all this shit that was going down. When Stone hauled him into the classroom and shoved the knife in his face, Dakota let himself go, just enough to lunge, eyes flickering to the golden-silver natural to shifters. He grabbed the knife by the blade, ignoring the hiss of burning skin as he danced backwards lightly, the knife in his hand. "Thank God," he growled, falling easily into a ready stance. "Finally someone I can beat the shit out of."

Stone adjusted his own stance to mirror the kid's, snarling to hide his surprise at being thwarted. "You're a monster," he hissed. "And you're gonna die."

"Oh no," Dakota said, tossing the knife into the corner of the room. "I'm not a monster, and I'm not gonna die. You really think I didn't spend six years with the Winchesters without learning how to defend myself against hunters?"

Stone laughed, a cold, harsh sound. "Six years is nothing," he spat. "I've been doing this my whole life. And just because two perverts who like to keep it in the family have been molly-coddling you all this time, it doesn't make you human. You're still a monster. You're still evil."

Dakota grinned. "I'm a shifter; it's in our nature to pick things up quickly." He lunged for Stone, every muscle in his body prepared for a fight. Stone didn't go down easily, and by the time Dakota finally managed to get under the bastard's guard and knock him out, he was gonna need a new skin if he wanted to avoid any further rumors.

Dean had noticed a distinct absence of Stone-lurking, and he'd found Sammy and they'd both quickly searched the school. They'd spotted Dakota and the hunter fighting, but by the time Dean picked the lock, only Dakota was standing. Dean eyed the unconscious hunter, and then his son, the two of them covered in cuts and bruises. "Better now?" he asked finally.

Dakota shook his head. "No, not really," he muttered tiredly. All he felt was sore and tired and sick.

Sam stepped over Stone's unconscious form to wrap an arm around Dakota's shoulders. "Come on," he said softly, urging his son to leave the room with him. "Let's go home. We'll run you a bath and you can shift, and we'll have some hot chocolate, okay?" The routine had been born back when Dakota went through the first stages of shifter puberty; a warm bath helped with a full-body shed, and the hot chocolate was a nice treat for afterwards. 

Dakota nodded; it was late enough that they could get out of the school without being spotted. He let Sam lead him out of the school, Dean making sure the way was clear.

Later that evening, Dakota had his new skin on and was clutching a mug of hot chocolate, staring morosely into it more than he was drinking it. Dean glanced over at Sam before looking back to Dakota. "Dakota, did something else happen?" he asked gently.

Dakota glanced up. "Other than me nearly punching out Alison yesterday, slipping up and letting her see my eyes again, and Rory kissing me, no, not much."

Sam's gaze flickered back to Dean. They already knew about Alison, but had yet to discuss it with Dakota; he hadn't mentioned it to them and they were more concerned about Stone's presence. The kiss was a bit of a surprise, but Sam guessed that it wasn't high up on Dakota's list of priorities. "So what happened with Alison?" he asked gently, leaning forward.

Dakota sighed. "She insulted me, again. When Stone showed up. Asked if you guys were pimping me out now, and when Rory asked her what she was doing, she said she was making sure everyone knew what a slut I was, just like him." He drew in a shuddering breath; his knuckles hurt, he was clenching his hands so hard around the mug. "I got pissed. Yanked her out of the chair and shoved her back, told her to get the hell out of my sight."

Sam grimaced. "Well," he said carefully, "it wasn't an ideal reaction, but it was understandable. She's been giving you a hard time, and you got mad. That's okay." He took a deep breath, looking to Dean and hoping he would support what he said next. "I know you feel like you lost control, but the fact that you didn't beat the shit out of her—and she would have deserved it, believe me—shows that you're a lot more in control than you think. Pops wouldn't have stopped there when he was your age, I can promise you that."

Dean snickered. "Wouldn't have mattered if she was a girl, if she insulted Sam like that. I'd have laid her out flat," he admitted.

Dakota gave them a grin. "I don't doubt it." He reached down to give Sable a rub on the top of her head when she laid down on top of his feet. "Anyway, after school yesterday, Rory took me out to the announcer's booth."

"Is that when he kissed you?" Sam asked tentatively. 

Dakota nodded, and the words just spilled from his lips without any permission or thought from him whatsoever. "Yeah. It wasn't like, some steamy make-out session or anything. We were sitting there, and he had his arm around me, but not like he was trying to do it romantically. I was just... done, y'know? Just wanted someone to lean on. And he let me. Honestly, when he kissed me, he looked even more surprised than I felt, like the thought of kissing me hadn't even been in the same galaxy as we were. But we're still friends, and it hasn't made anything weird between us."

Sam gave his son a soft smile. "I'm proud of you," he said honestly. "It sounds like you handled it really maturely." He was also glad that Rory was such a good friend, that he'd been there for Dakota when he'd needed him, even if things hadn't turned out exactly how either of them had expected. Sam shared yet another look with Dean. "I don't suppose we need to tell you that it's okay," he ventured. "Y'know, if you liked it?"

Dakota shook his head. "Dude, I've grown up with you two," he pointed out, chuckling slightly. "I know that it really doesn't matter what gender the person you fall in love with is."

"Then you're already smarter and more mature than most of the world," Dean said, a proud smile on his face.

Sam's grin matched Dean's, although he hadn't missed the fact that Dakota's answer, while the right one, hadn't clued them in on how he felt about the kiss. He didn't press the issue though, knowing that Dakota would bring it up if and when he was ready. "Drink your hot chocolate," he encouraged instead, a teasing light in his eyes. "I didn't give you my marshmallows so you could waste 'em."

Dakota laughed. "No, you gave me your marshmallows because you put too many in your hot chocolate, again," he snickered.

Dean chuckled and leaned against Sam, content to be with his family. "Now we just need to figure out who the mage is," he said.

"About that," Dakota began. "I was talking to some other kids, and apparently Alison's mom always disliked Rory. She was always really cold—sometimes outright insulting—to him, which, according to everyone else, was really weird. Apparently she was always just indifferent to Alison's boyfriends."

Dean thought about it for a second. "I suppose, if she was a mage, she might have a spell or something that could tell her if someone was gay."

Sam considered this for a moment before shaking his head. "If that was the case, why wouldn't she do something to break them up right away?" he asked. "It doesn't make sense to wait until Rory's already hurt Alison by going off with another guy, and it definitely doesn't make sense to wait until Alison drives the other guy to suicide. ...Unless she didn't?"

Dakota smacked himself in the forehead. "Christ, I'm so stupid!" he cried, lunging for his phone. Sable made a sound that almost seemed like she was agreeing with him, and he scowled at her. "Shuddup," he mumbled, his thumbs flying over the keys. "If Alison's only had the necklace since Rory was attacked, then it doesn't make sense. But if she's had it for longer than that—say, since she told her mom that Rory cheated on her with another guy—then what if Alison only bullied Leo, but didn't drive him to suicide? What if her mom killed Leo?"

Dean felt his jaw drop. "If she did, it would explain how she could control the ghost—steal a bit of DNA before she shoved him off of the ladder."

Dakota's phone vibrated, and he read the text, crowing in triumph. "Rory says she didn't have it until a month or so before they broke up, and she's worn it every day since she got it!"

Sam beamed, impressed with his son's brilliance. "Okay, so now we just need to find a way to stop Alison's mom." He cut his gaze to Dean. "Preferably without killing her."

"Why not?" Dean asked. "Most effective way of solving a problem."

"Hate to do it, but I agree with Pops," Dakota chimed in. "And what is it with us and psychotic mothers?"

Sam shifted uncomfortably, but after a moment he managed a smile and a shrug for Dakota. He didn't know what it was with them and psychotic moms, but he hated having to kill them. Dakota's mom had been evil, and Dakota had chosen to stay with the Winchesters, had begged them to stop her no matter what the cost—but this felt different. This mage wasn't much better than Dakota's mother, but at least Dakota had understood what she was, what she'd put him through. Alison may be a bitch, but she didn't deserve to lose a mom that loved her. No one did.

"Okay," Sam said at last, standing up. "It's been a long day. Maybe we should all get an early night."

***

Dakota was standing in his room, in front of his mirror again. He'd locked his door, removed all of his clothes, and was studying his reflection again. Thing was, he didn't know what he was looking for. He could see Sable watching him, and Dakota supposed he should feel a bit awkward, what with an intelligent-as-a-human cat watching him, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

When Rory had kissed him, it had been nice, but had once more brought the unsettling feeling to the forefront of his mind. It had been on his mind all week, the natural feeling he'd had when he'd been in Erin's body. Dakota had always thought of himself as male, never considered that, while he may one day have to use a female body, it may feel more natural than the one he was used to. It was confusing; he'd always been Dakota, the boy the Winchesters had saved. It had never occurred to him before that maybe he could be Dakota, the girl the Winchesters had saved.

Dakota lifted his gaze to meet his reflection's eyes, and he watched them narrow as he narrowed his own in concentration, pulling and stretching his skin and bones until the face that looked back at him was decidedly feminine. The eyes were tilted a bit more, eyelashes a bit fuller, lips plusher, redder, the cheeks a bit less pronounced, rounded. Dakota shifted his attention down his body, tweaking and adjusting his body until it was no longer a teenage boy standing in the mirror, but rather a teenage girl. This was a body he'd made himself; not really based off of one single person, so he felt more comfortable with touching, exploring.

Dakota let his hands roam over his body. It wasn't the first time he'd touched himself; he knew just how sensitive his nipples were—his whole chest, really—and how turned he got when he dragged his nails up his sides, digging in enough to scrape, but not hard enough to really leave a mark. It felt different—in a good way—to feel the slightly longer nails skittering across his skin, and knowing they were his.

His eyes followed his hands in his reflection, and he bit his lip as his fingers skated up his stomach, under the small breasts he'd given himself, cupping the flesh and bringing his thumbs up to rub over the nipples. An involuntary gasp escaped him; holy hell, that felt even better than when he did it in his other body. His hands shaking slightly, Dakota let them fall from his breasts, hanging limply by his sides as he looked himself in the eye, daring himself to touch the one area of his body he'd avoided so far.

He spread his legs, slowly bringing one hand up, fluttering uncertainly at the crease of his thigh before he closed his eyes; maybe it would be easier if he didn't watch himself. He let his hand slide over his skin, to his inner thigh, and then drag up until he could feel the soft skin between his legs against his wrist. Dakota dragged in a shuddering breath, bringing his hand up further until he cupped the mound of flesh in his hand, then slowly let one finger slide in between the folds.

He wasn't a complete moron; he knew what porn was, had watched plenty of it, and read quite a bit of fanfiction about it, too. He knew that women had a little bundle of nerves called the clitoris, it was supposed to feel—

 _Holy shit._ Dakota's eyes flew open and he bit back another gasp as his finger dragged over that little pearl, pleasure shooting through him at the feeling, hips bucking instinctively. "Holy God," he breathed, unable to resist rubbing over it again, his other hand fisting and flying up to press against his mouth to contain his groan of pleasure.

His knees buckled when he rubbed a little harder, and he made himself stop long enough to stagger to the door and open it, kick Sable out—because no way in hell was he doing _this_ with Sable in the room now—lock it again, and then collapse onto the bed, biting his fist as he let himself follow this body's instincts, rubbing and pressing and circling, coiling the rising heat inside of himself tighter and tighter until it finally burst, stars sparking behind his eyelids as his back arched off of the bed, pleasure making him boneless as he collapsed, panting slightly.

He stared sightlessly at the ceiling, slowly getting his breath back. Well. While that had definitely been one of the best orgasms of his life—it didn't really help his dilemma. Obviously he was completely capable of coming in either body—not like he expected any different—but that didn't help him figure out whether he was more comfortable in one than the other. As he lay on his bed, Dakota turned it all over in his mind.

_Each body feels natural, but every body feels natural to me; I'm a shifter. I guess how hard I got off doesn't really matter, since every body responds to different stimuli differently. So... Guess that means that the main issue here is whether I'm more comfortable thinking of myself as a guy or a girl. I'm a lot better off than other people with the same issue, though—I can actually try out the different bodies. Wait, wait, focus. Getting off topic. Which do I feel more comfortable as?_

_I've always been Dakota, male. It's never really occurred to me that I could be Dakota, female. The name's androgynous, but—Focus. I never really thought about being a girl before. Not consciously, at least. I'm always collecting blueprints, every time I touch someone. So I guess there's always that thought of 'how would their body feel.' But that's not the same thing as being them._

_I don't really feel like a certain gender, though. I mean, I'm just... me._ As that last thought occurred to him, Dakota realized that was the truest thing in the world. _I am me. It doesn't matter if I'm a girl, or a guy, of whether I think of myself as male or female, or what my body looks like or who I fall in love with. All that matters it that I am me, and I do what I think is best for me. Because I'm the only one whose opinion really matters. And I think... I think I like this body, but for me—me, Dakota—I can be either a guy or a girl, but at the end of the day, I am more comfortable with thinking of myself as Dad and Pops' son._

With that thought, Dakota carefully shifted back to his usual body—but he kept some of the more subtly feminine features. Then he got dressed, unlocked his door, and slipped under the covers, repeating the same thought to himself over and over until he fell asleep.

_I am me._

***

When Patricia Moore got off the phone the next morning, she was beyond frustrated. Couldn't she have a moment's peace? First, that arrogant fool had turned up on her doorstep last night, beat to hell and yet still determined to kill her, and now one of Alison's teachers was demanding her presence at the school. If Alison had let her grades slip, after everything Patricia had done for her, there would be hell to pay.

Sighing, Patricia replaced the phone in its cradle and started up the stairs to find an outfit appropriate for a parent-teacher meeting. She closed her bedroom door behind her before heading for her closet, taking care to step over the body of one Eliot Stone as she went.

***

Alison met her mother at the main entrance of the school not long after the final bell, and she looked nervous. Patricia could understand why. "What did you do?" she demanded.

Alison flushed. "Nothing, mom, I swear! My grades have been a bit lower in Mr. Smith's class than in the others, but it's hardly worth calling home over. They're not _bad_."

"They must be," Patricia hissed, furious, "or Mr. Smith wouldn't waste his time. Unless it's not about your grades?" The look on Alison's face told her everything. "I'm going to ask you again. What did you do?"

"Mr. Smith is queer!" Alison spat the words like venom, but Patricia didn't blame her. "He's like gay-married or something to one of the other teachers and they have a kid in my class, Dakota."

"You've been giving him a hard time," Patricia said, and it wasn't a guess—she knew. Dakota was the kid with the freaky eyes; the shifter. Fantastic. As if she needed more involvement from people who moved in those circles—not that shifters were people. _Freaks_. Patricia shook her head. "We'll find a way to spin it," she promised her daughter. "We've come too far for you to be ostracised for picking on a faggot."

She made Alison lead the way to Mr. Smith's classroom, and was surprised to find that there were two teachers waiting for them. Alison twitched at her side, and Patricia understood immediately. One of these men was Mr. Smith's sweetheart.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Moore," the taller one greeted them coldly, standing up and indicating that they should sit. "Thank you for coming in at such short notice."

"It's 'Miss', actually," Patricia corrected, taking her seat and offering them both her hand. "So which one of you called me in?"

"That would be me," Dean said, his voice just as cold as Sam, ignoring her outstretched hand. "We've got several... _situations_ that have been brought to our attention. All of them directly related to your daughter." Dean really didn't like this woman. She was too aloof—too controlled. Alison, however, didn't seem like she was on good footing with her mother. _Good,_ Dean thought vindictively. 

Patricia gave her daughter a scathing look before turning a smile upon the men before her. "If this is about your, ahem, _son_ , then I can assure you that Alison will behave herself in future," she said smoothly. "She recently suffered horrific heartbreak at the hands of a cruel homosexual, but she's learning that not all of you are like that."

Dean bared his teeth, just this side of snarling. "Oh, it's not just about our son," he said smoothly. "It's about what she's said about us, every other homosexual in the school, and the result of her grades slipping because she's too busy fantasizing about whether my partner or I would be the better lay."

"I doubt that," Patricia snarled, "and I think the manner in which you're speaking to me is highly inappropriate. Perhaps it's you who is obsessed with Alison?"

Dean smiled sweetly. "Perhaps I could borrow your math textbook, Alison?" When Alison complied, Dean hummed thoughtfully as he flipped through the pages. "Now let's see... Oh yes. This was the day we were covering the areas of various quadrilaterals. You see, Ms. Moore, when I set the students to do bookwork, I walk around the classroom, making sure that no one is doing something other than their work." He stopped on the page Alison had tucked the note inside, and pulled it out. "Seeing something like this—and she didn't even bother trying to hide it when I walked by, if I remember correctly—is something that sticks in your mind." He handed the note to Sam; it was the same one he'd shown him the night they'd raided Alison's locker.

Sam gave the note a brief glance, humming in interest as though he'd never seen it before, and handed it over to Alison's mother. Upon reading it, she turned a surprising shade of puce and showed it to Alison, snatching it away when she made a grab for it. 

"That doesn't mean anything!" Alison protested, almost pleading with her mother. "That was before I knew they were fa—"

"Before you knew we were _what_ , Alison?" Sam interrupted. 

Alison flushed. "Before I knew you were gay," she mumbled, looking down.

Patricia ignored her and passed the note back to Sam. "Teenage girls will wonder about these things, especially when faced with an attractive teacher," she dismissed easily. "It's unfortunate that Alison was stupid enough to write her musings down, but she knows that you two are very much off-limits—your _preferences_ aside, so I still don't understand why you called me here."

"Then let me make myself _very_ clear, Ms. Moore," Dean said, leaning forward. "Things aren't quite right here at Riverheads. Your daughter is directly related to most of them. We came to fix things, and we will do _whatever_ it takes to do so. Capice?"

Patricia sucked in a sharp breath, sitting back in her chair. _Oh_. Whether or not these men were shifters, like their son, they were also hunters. She wondered belatedly if they knew the man who had come for her last night, but either way it didn't matter. These two wouldn't be stupid enough to attack her here, and all she needed to do was get home and she could make sure that they never came knocking. For now, she maintained her frightened expression and gave a short, jerky nod. "I understand," she murmured, standing up very slowly from her seat as though any sudden movements were inadvisable. "Thank you for... giving me the opportunity to deal with this myself."

" _Deal_ with me?" Alison demanded, oblivious. "Mom!"

"Shut up," Patricia hissed, "and get out. We're going home."

Dean watched her go, waiting until the door was shut behind her before speaking. "Well. At least this case will be over soon."

***

Alison, much to Patricia's annoyance, stuck close for the rest of the evening. Apparently she felt that doing her homework in front of her mother would somehow get her out of any punishment that might be coming her way. As if Patricia would punish her—she wasn't the one who needed it.

As soon as Alison went to bed, Patricia went up to her room. The body that had laid there earlier had long since been dealt with, so there was plenty of room to drag her alter out of the closet and kneel before it. After that, It took absolutely no effort at all to summon the spirit of Leo Morten and send him after the young shifter.

***

Dakota's first sign that something was wrong was the sudden drop in temperature. Then Sable yowled in alarm, and Dakota barely had time to drop to the ground before the letter opener from the desk impaled itself in the wall behind him, right where his head was a moment earlier.

"Shit!" he hissed, rolling out of the way of more debris. Sable hissed at something, and Dakota looked over his shoulder, finding himself face-to-face with Leo. "Double shit."

He threw himself to his feet and fled the office, ducking debris and grabbing the iron fireplace poker they'd left by every door. He swung it like a baseball bat, slicing through Leo's abdomen. The ghost vanished, and Dakota raced down the hall to the temporary panic room, calling Dean as he went.

"Pops, Dad, red alert, level five," he gasped out when Dean picked up.

"Dakota, what—"

" _Level five,_ Pops!" he yelled, before dropping the phone to take another swing at Leo. "Sable, _c'mon!_ " The shifter and Companion lunged through the door that was always open except in situations like this, when one of them had to take refuge.

***

Dean dropped his own phone, flooring the gas pedal. He gritted his teeth, regretting the fact that he and Sam had had to stay behind for several more meetings.

By the time they got back, the house was dark and quiet. Sam and Dean entered cautiously, guns loaded with rock salt drawn and at the ready, but everything was still. The lack of activity might have indicated that the threat was gone if not for the sub-zero temperatures. Still, nothing was happening, so Sam felt like it was safe—necessary—to call out. "Dakota!" he yelled, still moving through the house with Dean at his side. "You okay?"

Dean spotted Dakota's phone on the ground and he snatched it. " _Dakota!_ "

Dakota jumped when he heard Sam and Dean's voices. "In the panic room!" he shouted back, still holding the iron poker and carefully opening the door.

Dean rushed the door as soon as it opened, enveloping Dakota in his arms. "Christ, Dakota, was so fucking worried," he murmured.

Sam wasn't too far behind, wrapping his arms around both Dakota and Dean. "It's okay, you're safe now," he promised, even though he still refused to let go. "Tell us what happened."

"I was in the office, and the temperature plummeted. Then I almost got stabbed with a letter opener, saw Leo's ghost, and hauled ass for the panic room." Dakota clung to both of his parents, dragging in deep breaths.

Dean huffed out a breath. "Patricia Moore. Alison's mother. She had to have sent him after you."

Sam nodded. His hand was moving over Dakota's back in slow, soothing circles, and he thought he could feel his son's breathing start to even out. "You did good," he said softly, relief making him dizzy. "We need to find a way to break the hold Patricia has on Leo, or she'll just keep sending him."

Dakota nodded, gulping a few more breaths before slowly pulling back. "I was researching binding spells, and I think that Patricia's using some sort of black altar, similar to the one used to bind a Reaper. We destroy the altar, we free Leo."

"What about Patricia?" Dean asked, frowning slightly. "She can't get away with this."

"She won't. Something tells me that Leo will be pretty pissed at her," Dakota answered, a hard glint in his eyes.

Sam nodded. For all of his misgivings earlier, this bitch had come after his son. She deserved whatever she got. "Okay," he sighed, passing a hand over his face. "We could go over there and do it now, but she'll be ready for us. You think you'll be okay if we wait? We won't let anything happen to you in the meantime."

Dakota nodded determinedly. "Yeah. We've got protections down everywhere; I'll be fine."

Sam smiled. "We'll put down extras, okay? And then I think we should get the heating on and smile at Pops until he makes us some dinner."

Dakota offered them both a grin, and Dean ruffled his hair before retreating to get the supplies needed for laying down even more protections.

***

The next day, Alison was out for revenge. Mr. Smith and Mr. Wesson had humiliated her in front of her mother yesterday, and she'd spent the whole of last night, while diligently doing her homework under her mom's nose, formulating a plan. By the time she walked into the cafeteria the next day, she knew just how to get those assholes back.

As she approached Dakota's table, Alison made sure to keep all evidence of disgust off her face. Instead, her expression was innocent, cautious, nervous even. After years of watching her mom manipulate people into giving her what she wanted, Alison was something of a pro at this game. "Um, Dakota?" she began once she was close enough for her soft voice to be heard. Normally this sort of ploy wouldn't work, but she figured the little bastard knew what his dads had done yesterday, so it would seem believable. "Can we go somewhere? I really need to talk to you."

Dakota glanced over at the other three kids at his table. Rory was staring at Alison, his eyes narrowed in suspicion, and the twins were outright glaring at her, and Erin looked one wrong twitch away from lunging. Dad and Pops had told Dakota about the meeting, and Dakota had told his friends, so they knew what Alison was capable of.

"Sure," he said finally, getting to his feet. He was careful to maintain a good distance between them, wary of what Alison might do.

Alison led Dakota away from the cafeteria and into the main school, finally choosing an empty classroom in which to 'talk'. She let Dakota go in first and then flicked the lock, fixing him with a sly smile when he turned at the sound. "Alone at last," she purred.

"Oh, Christ," Dakota groaned, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms. "Please tell me I'm having a nightmare chock full of cliches."

Alison laughed. "Please. I've seen the way you look at me." She moved toward Dakota until she was pressed up against him, her face tilted up for a kiss. "I know you want me."

"Someone who's made it her personal goal to destroy my school life and my fathers' careers? Sweetheart, I'd have to be even crazier than you," Dakota snorted, slipping to the side and around her, his mind racing, trying to find a way out of this. She was probably looking for revenge against what had happened the night before. So if he went along with her plan—not that he was even considering that idea—she'd use it as proof that he really was a slut. If he didn't, she'd claim he was totally gay, and ruined for anyone but his fathers.

"Come on," Alison wheedled, smirking as she advanced on Dakota again. "No one really believed that. It was all just a big joke. But why don't you show me anyway? Prove that it's not true; fuck me on this desk."

"And why would I do that? I'm not one for sloppy seconds, Ally-girl," Dakota sneered, still looking for a way around her. "You'd have to make one damned convincing argument for me to touch you."

Alison drew back as though Dakota had struck her, hissing in a sharp breath. Her gaze dropped from his face to the floor as her cheeks flamed, and she couldn't quite stop the words that she whispered next. "Couldn't convince Rory."

 _Oh, shit._ Looked like Dakota got to play therapist now. He worried his lower lip for a second before sighing and cautiously reaching out to lay a comforting hand on Alison's shoulder. "I'm sorry. That was over the line."

"Fuck you, Dakota," Alison snapped, but the words didn't have their usual bite and she didn't shrug his hand from her arm. "I don't need your pity. I don't need anyone."

"It's not pity, Alison," Dakota said quietly. "Rory hurt you, yeah. But that doesn't give me the right to be an ass to you."

Alison scoffed bitterly. "Guess you could say the same about me." She'd been more than an ass to Dakota, she knew that, but still—this was the closest she could get to apologising. "I thought you were cute, that first day," she confessed quietly. "But then you mentioned your dads, and after everything that happened with Rory, I just..." She trailed off. Nothing she could say could excuse the way she'd behaved. 

"Didn't want to take a chance on getting hurt like that again?" Dakota suggested, smiling grimly. "I'm not saying it's okay, how you acted, but... It's kinda understandable. Not okay, but understandable." He rubbed the back of his neck uncertainly.

Alison nodded. She didn't want Dakota's pity or even his forgiveness, but his understanding... She could live with that. "I didn't mean it," she continued, so softly that she could hardly hear herself speak. It was like the floodgates had been opened; she couldn't stop now even though she desperately wanted to. "What happened with Leo. Everyone thinks I did, but... After Rory, I was hurt, sure, but I was so _angry_." A harsh laugh escaped her. "I'm still angry. But I didn't mean to make him..." Alison's breathing hitched and her eyes watered. "I don't know how to tell Rory."

Dakota debated with himself for only a split second—his instinct to comfort anyone near him won easily over his reservation about Alison. He stepped forward and gently tugged her closer, wrapping his arms around her and offering her a shoulder to cry on. He didn't say anything else; what was there to say?

Alison didn't know how long they stayed like that, Dakota holding her while she sobbed, but by the time the bell rang she was mostly down to sniffles and the occasional hiccup. She drew back awkwardly, embarrassment kicking in as she realised what she'd just done, and who with. "Well that was, umm..." she stammered, pushing her hair out of her face and rubbing at her wet cheeks. When she looked at her hands her fingers were smudged with mascara, and she realised that she owed Dakota something more than a mumbled comment about how stupid she must look and a hasty escape. "Thanks."

Dakota gave her a small smile. "No problem; all part of the job description." He studied her face for a moment, and then reached out, using his thumbs to wipe away the worst of the mascara. "There. Now you can make it to a bathroom without raising too many eyebrows."

Alison smiled her gratitude, but it was weak and her eyes were still watery. "Can't believe you're being so nice to me," she mumbled, part amused and part mortified. She didn't deserve Dakota's kindness. "Thanks again. I—I won't... anymore." She gave a jerky nod, knowing Dakota would get it, and then walked out of the classroom on shaky legs.

Dakota watched her go, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. Alison didn’t seem like a bad person; she was mostly spoiled. Probably that was mostly Patricia's fault. He quickly checked to make sure he looked presentable, and then ducked out of the classroom and walked back to the cafeteria to get his stuff for his next class.

***

None of the Winchesters stuck around longer than was absolutely necessary after school got out for the day. On the way home, plans were bounced back and forth between the three of them as they tried to work out exactly how they were going to do this. In the end, it was decided that they would break into the Moores' home before Alison got back from cheer practice and run the risk of encountering Patricia. Mage or not, she was still a very petite woman; one of them could hold her back while the other one torched the alter.

"Do you want to come with us?" Sam asked Dakota as he loaded his shotgun with salt rounds, just in case Patricia managed to call up Leo to defend her. Dakota had done a lot of the ground work on this one—it was only fair that he got to help finish it.

"Definitely. No way in hell am I missing this," Dakota said firmly. He loaded up his own shotgun and grabbed a bat with iron stripes embedded into the wood.

Dean nodded. "Good. Finally glad this is almost over."

The drive to Patricia's house was a short one; Sam had used his pull with Jan in the office to get the address, and it wasn't too far from their own. They parked up a little way down the street, set to walk to the house, when they saw Alison unlocking the front door and going in. "Shit," Sam hissed. Having Alison watch her mother die hadn't been part of the plan at all. "What the hell is she doing home?"

Dakota felt all the blood leave his face. "Shit. Alison—she was really upset today. Like, _really._ "

Dean eyed his son—there was a story there. "Upset enough to skip practice?"

"Potentially," Dakota admitted.

Sam blew out a breath. On the one hand, he _didn't_ want to do this with Alison home, but on the other he knew that they couldn't run the risk of Patricia using the extra time to go after Dakota or one of the other kids. Torn, he fell back on the failsafe he'd been relying on since he was six months old: _big brother knows best_. He turned to Dean. "What do we do now?"

Dean bit his lower lip as he thought. "We'll have to go in," he said finally. He didn't like it, but liked the prospect of Patricia going after another target even less.

***

"What are you doing?" 

Patricia was pleased to see Alison jump at the sound of her mother's sharp voice. It served her right for interrupting just as she was about to summon Morten's ghost. 

"Hi mom," Alison said weakly. "I didn't feel well, so I thought I'd skip practice."

Patricia raised an eyebrow. "You're the head cheerleader. You can't skip practice."

"I can if I'm about to puke everywhere!"

"Don't be crude, Alison," Patricia snapped. "What's wrong with you, then? Do you need a doctor?" She watched in satisfaction as Alison lowered her head.

"No," Alison whispered.

Patricia's eyes flashed. "You let him get to you, didn't you? That Dakota?"

"Just forget about it, mom, it doesn't matter."

Patricia glared. "Fine. If you're ill, I don't suppose you'll want to eat. Go to your—" Her mouth snapped shut as she heard a noise from upstairs, the creaking of the floorboard just outside her bedroom door. _Shit_. She hadn't put her altar away. "Stay here," she hissed at Alison as she made for the stairs. " _Don't move an inch!_ "

"She's coming!" Dakota hissed, fleeing back into the bedroom where Dad and Pops were dumping salt and gasoline—their old fallback. When in doubt, salt and burn.

Dean glanced up, growling under his breath before dumping the last of the salt onto the altar. "C'mon, Sammy, hurry up!"

"What the hell are you doing?!" Patricia shrieked for the second time that day.

Sam's head snapped up to see her standing in the doorway, horrified as she took in the soaked altar and the lit match in his hand. The sound of footsteps on the stairs heralded the arrival of Alison too, but Sam couldn't think about that right now. "Freeing Leo," he answered, and dropped the match. 

The altar ignited with a rushing sound, and the sound Patricia made in turn was inhuman. Clearly, for all that she was an amateur, she knew what this meant. Leo's ghost appeared before her almost immediately, his form flickering as he advanced on her. Patricia fell back. "No!" she begged. "Stay away! Please! Don't—" Her words cut off with a strangled sound, and they all watched as deep bruises, consistent with rope burn, appeared on her throat. Patricia clawed at her neck, gasping for breath, but it was obvious that her efforts were futile. She was choking.

At last, she crumpled to the floor. The fraught tension in the room dissipated instantly, and Leo turned to the Winchesters, offering them a smile that conveyed both his gratitude and his aching sorrow. He lingered for a moment longer and then was gone.

His disappearance seemed to break something in Alison, who had been unable to do anything but stand there and watch as her mother was murdered by the boy whose death she thought she was responsible for. Now, she fell to her knees beside Patricia, shaking her, screaming for her. "Mom? Mom! _Mommy!_ "

Dean, Dakota, and Sam all shared one helpless glance, and then Dakota strode forward, kneeling beside Alison and carefully pulling her off of her mother's body. "I'm sorry," he murmured, pulling her against his chest for the second time that day. "It shouldn't have gone like this."

Dean watched his son comfort the girl who'd been tormenting him since the day they arrived, and wondered what the hell he and Sam had missed. After a moment, he turned to keep an eye on the altar, making sure that the fire wouldn't spread farther than it needed to.

Alison barely resisted the urge to collapse against Dakota and sob into his chest—again. This time, she pushed him away, her watery eyes wide and scared. "What the hell?!" she demanded through her tears, borderline hysterical. "Who are you? What did you do to my mom?!"

Dakota held his hands up in a gesture of peace, speaking slowly and calmly. "I didn't do anything to your mother, Alison. She brought it on herself." He glanced over his shoulder for confirmation that he could talk to her, and when Pops nodded, he continued. "She killed Leo, Alison. She was an amateur mage; she bound his spirit to her. And when we destroyed the altar, he turned on her."

"Mage... What..." Alison blinked, looking from her mom's body to the smouldering altar in her bedroom. "No... _I_ killed Leo, that was _my_ fault! You killed my mom because of Leo?! I told you I didn't mean to!"

"Alison," Dakota said soothingly. "You didn't. Leo was unhappy, but Rory told me that he never— _never_ —would have killed himself; he had plans for after high school. Your mom used that necklace around your neck to spy on anyone you interacted with. She singled him out, killed him, and bound his spirit. Then she used it to attack Rory, Andy, and me."

"That—that doesn't—" Alison sobbed, her breathing fast and harsh. What Dakota was telling her made absolutely no sense, and yet what she had seen provided indisputable evidence that he wasn't lying. In a fit of desperation, she ripped her necklace off and threw it away from her before falling back into Dakota's arms. "She's _dead_..."

Sam had moved into Patricia's en suite briefly during this exchange and now he returned, throwing a wet blanket over the altar and effectively smothering the flames. This went unnoticed by both teenagers, and once he was satisfied that the house wasn't going to burn down, Sam slipped his hand into Dean's. "Come on," he murmured, tugging his brother from the room.

Dean looked over his shoulder at where Dakota was slowly stroking up and down Alison's back, letting her cling to him and sob. "Not sure whether I want them to be together, or get the hell out of here," he mused as he followed Sam from the room.

"We need to stay," Sam responded softly. "Alison's gonna have more questions than Dakota can answer once she calms down, and we need to figure out what she's going to tell everyone."

Dean nodded reluctantly. "True. I would, too, if I'd seen the ghost of the kid I thought I as good as killed murder my mother."

Dakota stayed with Alison until she was calmer; at one point they'd shifted so he was leaning against the wall, Alison curled up in his lap as he continued stroking her back and murmuring soothingly. As her sobs subsided into hiccups, he tentatively asked, "Better now?"

Alison made a sound that was part laugh and part whimper. "A ghost just murdered my mom," she mumbled thickly. "How are things ever going to be better?"

Dakota let out a hollow chuckle. "I don't know; but I do know that sooner or later something else would have happened. She was using the ghost to kill other people."

"Andy..." Alison murmured, something of what Dakota had said earlier finally filtering through. "But _why_?"

"I don't know," Dakota admitted quietly. "I can't even begin to guess. And it's not our job to know why. It's our job to protect the people she would target."

"But why them?" Alison persisted. "Andy and Rory and you, and you said about my necklace... Oh God, was it because of _me_?"

"No!" Dakota snapped, sharper than he intended to. "No," he repeated, calmer. "Not because of you, not Rory, not Leo, not anyone but Patricia. We think she targeted them because they were gay and me because I'm the son of a gay couple." It was a minor stretch, but Dakota didn't feel guilty for it.

Alison was quiet while she took this in. A part of her knew that Dakota was lying, but she'd rather accept the lie than the weight of her mother's sins. "...What do we do now?" she asked tentatively after a long moment.

"Now? We get out of this room, and let Dad and Pops take care of cleanup." Dakota was aware that probably came out a lot blunter than he'd meant for it to, but maybe blunt was good. "C'mon," Dakota coaxed, standing up and tugging Alison with him.

Dean glanced up as he heard footsteps coming down the stairs. "Hey," he greeted carefully. "Ready to let us finish?"

Alison sniffled and nodded, still leaning heavily on Dakota. Sam approached them, and for all the contempt he'd held for this girl recently, he just couldn't be cruel to her. "Do you have someone you can stay with, Alison?" he asked gently. 

Again Alison nodded. "My dad," she whispered. 

"Okay. We'll call him soon, but first we need to go up there and make it look like there wasn't any foul play." The words _on our part_ went unsaid, but it was obvious that Alison heard them anyway. Her eyes widened as understanding dawned, and when she spoke again her voice was so quiet Sam could barely hear it, but it trembled with conviction.

"Make it look like she killed herself. Like she did to Leo."

Sam nodded and placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently. "Take care of her," he said to Dakota, and then followed Dean up the stairs.

Dakota steered Alison into the living room, sitting down with her on the couch. "Where does your dad live?" he asked gently.

"Not far," Alison mumbled. "I see him on weekends sometimes, when my mom lets— _let_ me."

Dakota nodded. "So you'll go stay with him." There was silence between them, broken only by the sound of Sam and Dean's movement upstairs. Eventually, Dakota offered, "You've probably got a lot of questions. You could ask me, if you wanted."

Alison shook her head. "No, I—I don't wanna know. My mom killed Leo and somehow got control of his ghost to kill other people and then he killed her. I don't—that's too much already. If you tell me vampires and werewolves exist too I think I'll have an aneurysm. Although." She looked up suddenly, searching Dakota's face. "Your eyes... They change sometimes. I wasn't just imagining that, was I?"

Dakota shook his head. "My eyes aren't the only thing that change," he admitted. "I just... have a harder time controlling them sometimes."

Despite her conviction that she didn't want to know anything more, Alison just couldn't withold her curiosity. "What does that mean?" she asked.

"It means... if I wanted to, I could look like anyone I've touched," Dakota said quietly, watching Alison warily. "I'm what's called a shifter."

"Oh." Alison took in a deep breath, and then let it out really slowly. "Nope," she said at last, shaking her head. "Too much info. No thank you. No more."

Dakota chuckled. "It can be overwhelming for someone who didn't grow up in this life," he promised her. "But eventually you get used to it."

"I don't want to," Alison argued. "Can't I just go back to being normal? To the place where my mom wasn't a homicidal witch who controlled ghosts?"

Dakota shrugged. "Maybe. But at the back of your mind, you'll always know that the world isn't always what it seems."

Alison nodded. "Yeah," she whispered. "I know."

***

It was several hours before the Winchesters left. During that time, Patricia's body was staged, the police were called and Alison's dad, Robert, arrived. He seemed like a good guy; he'd been all concern for his daughter, who had clung to him and cried and begged him to take her away. Once everything seemed to be in order, Sam gave Dakota a nod and then watched with curiosity as he gave Alison a hug goodbye before joining them at the side of the Impala. They'd explained their presence by claiming that Alison and Dakota were friends hanging out after school, but something told Sam that the hug hadn't just been for display.

The ride back to the house was quiet, and nothing much was said once they got inside either. Sable took up residence on Dakota's lap while Sam fixed something to eat and Dean wandered off to call Garth. When they all returned to the table, Sam set two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in front of each of them and sat down. "You okay?" he asked Dakota evenly, breaking the silence. It was the first time he'd handled a grieving witness, let alone one that he hated.

“Yeah. Better,” Dakota answered. He pushed his plate around in front of him; he was hungry, but didn’t feel like eating.

Sam watched his son, trying to work out what was going on in his head. Finally, he ventured, "You did good back there. I know it can't have been easy, being there for Alison after everything she's put you through."

"Thanks," Dakota said, smiling at Sam. "I guess after lunch today, I'm seeing Alison in a new light?"

Sam exchanged a quick look with Dean. "What happened?"

"She came up to me, and asked to talk to me alone during lunch today. First she tried to convince me to screw her on a desk, and then she actually had a bit of a breakdown. I held her during that, then we had to get to class," Dakota told them, finally taking a bite of his sandwich.

Sam had to admit that he was surprised, but he knew better than to ask for more information. Instead, he gave a soft "Huh" and picked up his own sandwich. "You're a good kid, Dakota. She was lucky."

"Um, not really, considering I'm the one who induced said breakdown," Dakota pointed out around a mouthful of peanut butter and blackberry jelly.

"Why do you say that?" Dean asked, curious.

"Because I told her she'd have to make one damned convincing argument to get me to touch her, and she looked like I'd slapped her, said something about how she couldn't convince Rory, and then broke down."

Sam winced. "I wouldn't beat yourself up about it," he said slowly. "She's been on your case since day one; you're allowed to lash out, and you didn't know what you said would have that effect on her. Besides, you didn't laugh in her face when she got upset, and no one would have blamed you for it. So yeah, you're a good guy."

Dakota was quiet for a moment and then nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right. It was pretty surreal, though, seeing Alison vulnerable like that."

Sam smiled. "Yeah, I can imagine." He finished off the last of his sandwich and went to pick up his second one, but found that his plate was empty. A glance to the side, however, told him that Dean was still happily munching away. "Hey, that's _mine_ , asshole!"

Dean smirked at Sam, finishing his bite and sniping, "Shouldn't have been filling your mouth with words, Sammy. Great PB&J-making skills, by the way."

Sam bitchfaced. "Why do I love you, again?"

"Because I'm awesome and your big brother; you're contractually obligated to love me," Dean retorted, reaching over to flick Sam in the center of the forehead.

Sam swatted Dean's hand away, and let his annoyed gaze turn heated. "Somehow I don't think that has much to do with it."

"Aaand that's my cue to leave. Night!" Dakota shoved himself away from the table, snagging Sable and swinging her into his arms on his way out. "C'mon, let's leave the disgusting parents alone and go spend time with the nice books, Sable."

Dean waited until Dakota was out of earshot before cracking up.

Sam laughed with his brother, and managed to use the distraction to snatch the last of his sandwich back. "He left pretty quick," he mumbled innocently around a mouthful of PB&J. "Was it something I said?"

Dean grinned some more. "Maybe it was something you were about to do," he suggested, darting forward to kiss Sam and steal the last bit of sandwich back before Sam could eat it.

Sam made an outraged sound. "What, like kill you for stealing my goddamn food?" he demanded, and grabbed the sandwich just as Dean was about to bite into it. Before Dean had a chance to react he was up and out of his seat, dancing away from the table. 

Dean's eyes lit with the challenge, and he slowly stood up. "Maybe..." he drawled, and then lunged forward, his hand locking around Sam's wrist, a grin on his face. "Or maybe I'm a different kind of hungry."

"Is that so?" Sam twisted his wrist out of Dean's grip and spun him. The remains of the sandwich landed on the floor, forgotten, as Sam pressed his brother up against the counter, Dean's back to Sam's chest. "Does this tempt your appetite?" he purred, his lips brushing Dean's ear.

"Maybe," Dean breathed, tilting his head to let Sam have better access. "Not quite sure though; think I need an appetizer."

Sam dragged his lips down the side of Dean's throat, pausing to suck a mark into his skin before reaching his shoulder, where he bit down through the fabric of Dean's shirt. "I could blow you right here," he suggested darkly. "Would that be appetiser enough? Think you could stay quiet?"

Dean let out a shaky breath, groaning quietly, "That could be arranged."

Sam stepped back and turned Dean around, hands gripping his waist as they kissed. "You sure?" he murmured when they broke apart, already undoing Dean's belt. "We could wait..."

"You make me wait now and you will _never_ see me in panties again, now _hurry up_ already, for Christ's sake," Dean growled.

"Idle threats," Sam chuckled, but he sank to his knees all the same, dragging Dean's slacks with him. Dean was hard, a damp spot already forming where his cock pressed against his boxers, and Sam sealed his lips over it, mouthing at him through the fabric.

"Oh, _Christ,_ Sammy," Dean breathed, his head falling back as he gripped the countertop desperately, praying that his knees wouldn't give out.

Sam backed off with a satisfied smirk only so that he could pull Dean's boxers down, too. One hand wandered up Dean's thigh while the other wrapped around the base of his cock, holding it steady so that Sam could lap at the precome beading in the slit before sliding his mouth down over the length, his tongue curling to find the nerves just beneath the head. Sam moaned. 

Sam's moan did interesting things to Dean's insides, and he gasped, hips bucking. "Jesus," he croaked. He really, _really_ hoped Dakota didn't come back; he'd walked in on them in various stages of sexytimes over the years, but it never got any less embarassing.

Sam's wandering fingers gave Dean's thigh a pinch, warning him to be quiet even as he moved his mouth lower, taking more and more of Dean's cock into his mouth until his nose was pressed into the coarse hairs at the base. Then, he started to suck, bobbing his head and hollowing his cheeks while the hand that had held Dean's dick began to play with his balls.

Dean keened in the back of his throat, hips bucked ineffectively against Sam's hold. " _Sammy,_ " he breathed, feeling his orgasm begin to coil low in his gut.

Sensing how close his brother was, Sam hummed and pulled back so that only the head of Dean's cock was in his mouth, his tongue working Dean over in just the way he liked. Meanwhile, the hand that was fondling his balls slipped further back, and Sam rubbed a dry finger against Dean's hole, a promise of things to come.

"Oh, oh, oh, _fuck,_ " Dean groaned, his hips jerking as he came down Sam's throat. When he was spent, he tugged at Sam's hair until his brother was back on his feet. Dean surged upwards, kissing Sam hard, alternately nipping and licking his lower lip. "Wanna blow you, Sammy," he whined.

"Not today, big brother," Sam panted into Dean's mouth, his hands on Dean's face as their lips moved together in another kiss. "Wait 'til we go to bed. Wanna fuck you."

"Sam, you can't just _say_ shit like that," Dean groaned, his dick twitching in a valiant effort to agree to round two. He dropped his head onto Sam's shoulder, reaching down to straighten his clothes.

Sam laughed, pressing a kiss to Dean's cheek before stepping back. "Well, I suggest you compose yourself," he said with a wink. "If Dakota walks in on us again I think he'll follow through on his threat from last time and not speak to us for a week."

"What's the fun in being parents if we can't embarrass the hell out of our kid?" Dean demanded, a shit-eating grin on his face.

"We can embarrass him, but I don't think we can kill him," Sam chuckled. "He's at that age; his eyes might melt or something." He adjusted himself in his slacks, and the touch was enough to make him forget why he'd told Dean 'no'. The smirk Sam leveled him with was nothing short of deviant. "Still," he continued slowly. "I don't think he's gonna show his face for a few hours. You wanna go upstairs?"

It was almost embarrassing how fast Dean got them upstairs. As soon as the door was locked behind them, he was shoving Sam towards the bed, climbing on top of him and hastily stripping them both of their shirts, his mouth fastening onto one of Sam's nipples, sucking and licking eagerly as he ran his hands down Sam's sides towards the top of his slacks.

"Shit, shit," Sam gasped, fingers winding into Dean's hair as he arched into his touch. "Got it up again already, old man?"

"Working on it, bitch," Dean growled, moving up to kiss Sam, capturing his lower lip between his teeth and tugging gently as he worked on Sam's pants. "Damn, you have no idea how fucking _hot_ you make me whenever I see you in this teacher get-up," he groaned.

"I think I have some idea," Sam mumbled, twisting restlessly in an effort to help Dean get his pants off. " _Jesus_. Want you to ride me."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, fine, just gotta get you _out of these clothes,_ Jesus, did you superglue them on?" Dean demanded, scooting down Sam's legs so he could pull back and actually _look_ at what he was doing.

"No, you're just uncoordinated when you're horny—here." Sam sat up too, pushing Dean away from him and pulling his own pants off, followed by his socks and boxers. "Can you handle the task of getting yourself naked?" he snarked, and settled back against the pillows with a hand on his cock.

"When you're looking at me like that, no," Dean sniped back, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Sam petulantly. "C'mere and take pity on your poor, older brother."

Sam laughed incredulously and released his dick. "My God, do you even want to get laid tonight?" he asked, pushing Dean back onto the bed and sliding down his body to work on the fastenings of Dean's pants with his teeth. When he finally got them open, Sam pushed them down his thighs and then sat back to pull them off altogether. "The things I do for you."

Dean smiled brightly, falling forward to wrap Sam in his—well, in his whole body, basically. "You _loooove_ me," he sang, grinning idiotically and pecking a kiss on the tip of Sam's nose.

"Are you stoned?" Sam asked affectionately, running a hand through Dean's short hair and grinning against his lips.

"Maybe—did you put something in my sandwich?" Dean grinned, kissing Sam again before sitting up. "Now, I believe you said something about me riding you..."

"I vaguely recall," Sam mumbled, shoving a hand beneath the pillows under his head until his fingers closed around a small bottle, which he then pressed into Dean's hand. "Gonna get yourself ready for me?"

Dean grinned cockily at Sam as he uncapped the bottle and poured some of the lube onto his hand. "Exercising that voyeurism kink of yours, Sammy?" he purred, reaching behind him and rubbing one slick finger around his hole before letting it slip inside.

"Don't mind if I do," Sam returned, groaning as he watched that finger disappearing into his brother's body. "More."

Dean grinned and arched his back, rocking his hips as he felt his cock start to harden once more. He slipped a second finger inside, crooking them just so, rubbing against his prostate. He let out a soft groan, balancing himself with one hand on Sam's stomach.

"That's it, baby," Sam breathed, getting his hand on Dean's cock to help stroke it back to life. "God, you're so fucking sexy like this." It didn't matter how many times they did this; the sight of Dean naked and aroused and opening himself up for Sam still took his breath away.

Dean grinned cockily at Sam, working his fingers in and out of himself, pausing only to add a third, hissing softly at the slight burn. After another moment, he panted, "Okay. I'm ready." He lifted himself onto his knees, reaching down to slick Sam's cock with the rest of the lube, and then slowly guided his brother's cock to his hole and lowered himself.

Sam let out a long, low moan, his eyes rolling back in his head as he was surrounded by heat. Dean was so tight, as always, and Sam gripped his hips, not to force him down but because he needed to hold on. "Oh, oh God," he panted. "Dean. Yes."

Dean grinned, circling his hips and grinding down onto Sam's lap. "God, Sam, so fucking _big_ ," he groaned, lifting himself up and sinking back down.

"You say that like it's a surprise," Sam huffed out on a breathless laugh, twining his fingers with Dean's so he could brace himself. "Fuck, you feel so good."

"Now who sounds surprised?" Dean retorted, repeating the movement, picking up speed. He groaned, letting his head fall back. "God, Sam, touch me, please," he begged shamelessly.

Sam let go of one of Dean's hands in favour of reaching for his dick, fingers dancing around the head and along the shaft. He waited until Dean whined in frustration before tightening his fist and jacking him properly, his rhythm faltering as Dean brought him closer and closer to the edge.

Dean whimpered, his hips stuttering as he felt himself draw closer to his second orgasm. "Oh God, Sammy, please, please, _please_ , I want you so badly, wanna feel you come inside me, wanna feel you fill me up, Sammy, _please_ , don't leave me empty," he pleaded, grinding down against Sam's lap.

Sam did not consider himself a selfish lover, and he prided himself on always making sure that Dean got off first—but who could resist such a beautiful plea? He cried out as the wave of pleasure that had been building finally crested, and came deep within Dean with a groan of his name. It seemed to go on forever, Sam's hips jerking wildly and his fist still desperately sliding over Dean's cock. "Come on, God, you feel so fucking good, come for me, come _on_ me, Jesus, _Dean_..!"

Dean came with a shout, his cock spasming violently in Sam's fist. He groaned as he came down, and sprawled over Sam's chest, sighing happily. "Your turn to clean up," he muttered.

Sam grunted and shoved Dean off of him. "If you want me to clean up then maybe you shouldn't stick us together," he groused, getting up and wandering into their en suite for a warm, wet washcloth. He was clean when he returned to the bed, and he kissed the side of Dean's neck as he passed the cloth over his skin. "We can just stay here, right?" Sam asked innocently as he dropped the washcloth onto the floor and snuggled up to Dean. "Dakota can fend for himself just this once."

Dean grinned and wrapped his arms around Sam. "Of course he can," he agreed, pressing a quick kiss to Sam's lips. "He _was_ raised by the Winchesters after all."

Sam laughed and pressed closer, tangling their legs together. "He's gonna be such a bitch in the morning," he murmured against Dean's lips, but really, he didn't care. His eyes were already starting to drift closed, a combination of a long day and good sex and the warmth of Dean's skin against his own making exhaustion quick to catch up to him. "Love you," he mumbled, and fell asleep.

***

The next day was their last at Riverheads. Leo's ghost was gone, the mage was gone—everyone was whispering about poor Alison, how her mother hanged herself—and Dakota was _not_ looking forward to saying goodbye to all the friends he'd made during his brief high school stint.

Sam, who had gone through more than his fair share of awkward and sometimes painful goodbyes whenever they moved to a different school as a kid, understood. As they walked into the building together for the last time, he ruffled Dakota's hair and gave him a smile. "Exchange numbers and email addresses," he encouraged gently, because it was more than he'd ever been allowed to do and he wanted to make sure his son knew that it was an option. "You can keep in touch with them."

Dakota grinned and nodded. He was going to be sad to leave, but at the same time, he was kind of glad. He didn't fit in here; he was just too different, had lived too different of a life to fit in with the other kids. He was planning on informing Sam and Dean of this revelation when they left.

Dean ruffled Dakota's hair, causing his son to let out an aggrieved groan and run his own hands through his hair in an attempt to fix it. Dean snickered. "Yeah, you can keep in touch with them; never hurts to have some friends that you can fall back on."

Sam raised an eyebrow at Dean over Dakota's head. He could distinctly remember being told by that very same big brother, not long after Jess died, that he couldn't have friends outside of hunting—but he wasn't petty enough to point that out. They'd both changed a lot since then. Instead, he agreed with Dean and wished Dakota luck before they went their separate ways. 

That day was filled with awkward goodbyes, numerous exchanged emails, and teachers grumbling about paperwork for a student leaving early and transferring credits and Dakota mostly tried to ignore the teachers. By the end of the day, Dakota was ready to leave. However, when he got to the Impala, instead of Sam or Dean waiting for him, it was Alison. "Hey," he said, surprised.

"Hey," Alisom returned with a small smile. "I hope this is okay. I heard that you were leaving, and so am I, so I wanted to see you."

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, it's fine," Dakota said, moving to lean against the Impala next to her. "So you're going with your dad, then?"

Alison nodded. "Yeah. It's not like he lives so far away that I couldn't still go here if I wanted, but I asked to move schools, too. I don't want to be the girl that drove some poor kid to suicide anymore, and I'll always be that here. Besides, I think it'll do Rory some good if I'm gone." Her smile turned sad for a moment, and she nudged her shoulder into Dakota's. "What about you? You off to fight more monsters?"

Dakota nodded. "Until now, I've usually stayed home when Dad and Pops were out on a job. But now, I think I'm going to start joining them more often."

Alison let out a nervous laugh. The concept of the supernatural still freaked her out a lot. "Rather you than me," she offered wryly, and stepped away from the car so that she could stand in front of Dakota. "Listen, the reason I came here... I wanted to say thank you for—well, you know." Her eyes filled with tears at the thought of her mom, but she blinked them away. "I also wanted to apologise. For everything. I put you through hell and you didn't deserve any of it. I'm really sorry, Dakota."

Dakota offered Alison a forgiving grin. "I know you are. Just try not to be so much of a bitch at your new school, okay?" His grin turned cheeky. After a moment, he added, "Hey, why don't you give me your email address? We could keep in touch."

"Oh, yeah. Sure." Alison looked surprised, but she took the pen Dakota offered her and scrawled her email address in his notebook, alongside everyone else's. With a pang she recognised Rory's, but she handed the book back to Dakota with a smile. Their fingers brushed as they made the exchange, and Alison found herself swaying closer to him. "Let me just..." she murmured, before pressing a soft, chaste kiss to his lips.

Dakota was surprised by the kiss, but he didn't protest; he closed his eyes and returned it, briefly. When Alison pulled back, he looked at her with comically wide eyes. "Um... Not that that wasn't great, but... Why?" he managed to stammer out. "I'm not offended, or upset, or anything, just really... confused? I mean, I know you said you thought I was cute—which, huge ego boost, by the way—but after everything that's happened, I don't get why you'd—You know what, I'm just gonna shut up now because I'm starting to ramble."

Alison's smile was fond and a little wistful. "Just wanted to see what it could have been like," she explained, "if I hadn't been such a colossal bitch." She patted Dakota's cheek and stepped back. "Tell your dads that I'm sorry for everything, okay? And make sure you keep in touch."

Dakota grinned at her. "I will. Who knows, maybe one day we'll meet _without_ there being something supernatural involved," he chuckled. He leaned forward and hugged Alison quickly. When he stepped back after releasing her, he gave her a fond smile of his own. "Strange as it sounds, I think I'm actually going to miss you."

"Never thought I'd hear you say that," Alison chuckled, grinning despite herself. A car somewhere behind them beeped its horn, and she turned to wave at the driver. "That's my dad," she explained when she faced Dakota again. "I'd better go. Thanks again, Dakota. It's been... truly awful." One last kiss, this time on the cheek, and Alison turned and walked away.

Sam and Dean watched from a safe distance while she got into her dad's car, and they shared a quizzical smile as they joined their son by the Impala. "Did she just kiss you?" Sam asked, bemused.

"Yeah," Dakota said, watching Alison's dad drive away, giving a little wave as it passed them. "She said sorry for the hell she put us through, by the way."

Dean snorted. "So, what, she only did it as the high school version of pulling pigtails?" he asked, rolling his eyes but grinning nonetheless.

Dakota flushed and reached over to punch Dean on the shoulder. "Shut up," he scowled.

"She liiiikes yoouuu," Sam teased, tugging on a lock of Dakota's hair and laughing gleefully when he was pushed him away with a glare. Once they got into the car, he sobered, twisting in his seat to look at his son. "Are you gonna miss the place?" he asked gently, sympathetically. 

"A bit," Dakota admitted. "But not as much as you might expect." He was quiet for a moment, and then figured there was no point in waiting. "I want to be a hunter."

Sam glanced at Dean, and when his gaze returned to Dakota it held no judgement or disdain—only mild surprise. "Are you sure?" was all he wanted to know.

Dakota nodded. "I've been considering it for a while," he said. "I want to do this more. Saving people, hunting things. The family business."

Sam nearly choked on a laugh and he couldn't decide if he and Dean had fucked up somewhere, or if they'd done everything exactly right. "Okay," he said at last, beaming. "The family business. Gotta warn you though—the pay sucks."

"Dude, I know it does," Dakota chuckled, reaching up to pat Sam on the shoulder. "I know what you're thinking, but honestly? Having a normal life is a nice sentiment, but it'll never be a reality. Not for me. I'm not normal in the way the majority of the world defines the word. I never will be. And if I'm not going to be normal, then I'm at least going to use my abilities to my advantage."

Dean tossed Dakota a grin over his shoulder, before reaching out and taking Sam's hand, squeezing reassuringly. "That's our boy," he said proudly.


End file.
